


24 Epiphanies

by Erisid (Everlast)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4626567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everlast/pseuds/Erisid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She did not claim to know everything, but she knew she was in love with Clarke, and 24 letters sent posthumously would remind her wife just how much.<br/>A backwards telling of a love story spanning decades of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The streets were still damp from the downpour that had occurred hours ago, the sidewalk illuminated by the lamps lining the road in an almost cheery fashion. It was late, night having fallen much earlier. The occasional man or woman walking home and a gaggle of young rowdy college students were the only individuals traversing along the gloomy sidewalk. In the concrete jungles of New York City, a blonde woman strode determinedly across the street, her eyes hardly concealing the tightly coiled anger seated within her.

A few steps behind, Lexa swallowed thickly. She wasn't quite sure what it was she had done, but from the set of Clarke's shoulders and her stiff posture, she was definitely mad at her. It also was a big indication when the blonde had refused to slow down even after Lexa had called her name a few times.

The ride on the subway had been awkwardly silent too. Lexa had sat next to Clarke on the bench, and despite the physical proximity, there was a gaping distance between them, and the air had been tense with a brittle fragility. Yet any attempts to talk to her had been answered with short, one-word sentences.

The brunette frowned as she chased after Clarke through the apartment doors, hastening to make it to the elevator. Clarke was there first, and she hardly tried to hold the doors open for Lexa, but she had just managed to throw out an arm to catch the lift.

Lexa fiddled with her watch, one hand rubbing the back of her neck right after she had triple-checked the leather straps. She cleared her throat uncomfortably, and she chanced a glance to the woman standing next to her.

Clarke was still standing ramrod-straight, and Lexa could see that she was still seething in pent-up aggression. Talking to her would be like poking a bear with a stick. However, Lexa was not known for backing away from a challenge. She opened her mouth carefully.

"Babe, are you going to tell me – "

"Not a word." Clarke snapped angrily, her eyes glaring holes into the metal elevator doors. Lexa flinched slightly, and she pulled at the collar of her white blouse; suddenly the black pant-suit she was wearing for work was making her blisteringly hot.

"But honey I don't," Lexa huffed when Clarke continued to give her the cold-shoulder, and she tried again. "It's something I did right?" When she didn't respond, Lexa was unsure of how to interpret the silence, and she couldn't help herself. "I did it, I'm so…rude, I definitely did it right?"

The ding of the elevator and the opening of the doors on their floor allowed Clarke the excuse not to respond, and the woman bolted from the elevator and down the hall, with Lexa hot on her heels.

Once Lexa had stepped over the threshold of their apartment complex and her hand had just left the door knob in closing it, Clarke finally broke her vow of silence and spun around to face Lexa.

"You are such an ass!" She seethed, her blue eyes dark with fury. Lexa widened her eyes, stunned. Before she could say anything, Clarke flung her jacket on the couch and threw her high heels haphazardly in the direction of the shoe rack.

"Okay, want to tell me why you think that?" Lexa asked calmly. She unbuttoned her blazer with a deft thumb, her other hand working on removing her own shoes. The blonde was still forging an angry red path across their living room, discarding the restricting clothes that she had worn for her gallery opening. Despite the situation, Lexa couldn't help admiring her wife's well-toned body, even as she stood only in her underwear, hands on her hips as she glared at the brunette.

"Why would you tell my mother that you wanted kids?" Clarke's voice was loud, magnified in her fury. Lexa stared confused, shrugging off her coat.

"I do want kids Clarke."

"Remember your precise words Woods." Clarke snarled. The blonde strode off to the bedroom, and Lexa chased after her. "You said that you would like to have kids, but I wasn't interested."

"Which is true." Lexa intoned, and Clarke spun around to give her a death-glare, which made her gulp.

"Well did you mention that it was because you said you were willing to wait until after we had settled down in our new place? Or that I was busy with my work, and so were you?"

"Well, no." Lexa replied honestly, and Clarke huffed loudly. They were in the middle of the room now, with Clarke entering the closet, fishing out her sleepwear.

"You basically told my mom that I don't want kids, which is basically like pouring gasoline over a bonfire with her." She continued, disappearing from sight as she stalked into the ensuite bathroom. "You know how she is, she wants one of us to pop a kid out, and seeing as I'm the only one who didn't get their ovaries blasted into pieces in a shoot-out –"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I had one too many glasses of wine tonight, alright?" Lexa sighed. She sat down on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands together. "Can you just, take it easy?"

"No I'm not going to take it easy Lexa." Clarke re-entered the room, standing a good few feet away from the brunette. "And while we're at it, why is it that I only learned about you getting injured from Octavia, and not my wife, whom I'm married to and is supposed to not keep secrets from me?" She crossed her arms, and Lexa groaned.

"I'm going to strangle her tomorrow." Lexa grumbled under her breath, meeting Clarke's furious gaze. "Clarke, I didn't want to scare you, not on your big night."

"You. Were. In. The. Hospital." Clarke bit out scathingly.

"It was a few broken ribs, the vest caught the bullet." Lexa said soothingly, and Clarke just rolled her eyes.

"And you didn't think that your life was more important that my artwork?" Clarke huffed in frustration, brushing a few wayward blonde locks from her eyes.

"It wasn't life-threatening."

"It could have been."

"Clarke." Lexa stood, taking a few tentative steps towards her fuming wife. "I'm standing here, aren't I? And I'm sorry about what I said to your mother, I didn't mean it." She reached out to take Clarke's hands, but the other woman jerked away from her touch.

"Is this what you want, Lexa?" Her blue eyes were suddenly showing a sliver of vulnerability, uncertain as she looked into the brunette's green gaze. Lexa for the life of her was not sure about what Clarke was asking her.

"What do you mean?" She queried, her voice soft and quiet.

"This," Clarke gestured with her hands to the vast expanse of apartment walls and furniture. "What if this is all we are, Lexa? What if we're just two married individuals, career-driven and hoping to have kids one day, but that one day never comes?" She side-stepped Lexa to take a seat on the foot of the bed, her head in her hands as she quietly despaired, exhausted. The fight totally abandoned as she simply sat there with her elbows propped up on her knees.

Lexa just stood there watching Clarke as she rubbed her face tiredly with shaky hands. The brunette took a deep breath to steady herself, before kneeling in front of Clarke, a warm hand on the blonde's thigh. She reached up to cup Clarke's cheek gently, and when their gazes met, Lexa gave her a soft smile.

"Then I'm happy with all that we are, right now, in this moment." Lexa said quietly. "Clarke, I love you. Our life, it's this, right here." She stroked the blonde's thigh soothingly. "We don't follow other people's schedules, we have our own, and this is us."

"Lexa." Clarke sighed. "I'm so sorry that I yelled at you." She said, looking away for a heartbeat. "I just…I got so angry knowing that you didn't tell me, and I know you didn't die, but your job it's so dangerous."

"I know." Lexa said calmingly. Without much effort, Lexa pulled Clarke into the safety of her arms, into her lap. Clarke buried her face into Lexa's neck, breathing in the smell of her sweat, of gunshot residue and wine.

"And when you had that conversation with my mom about starting a family, you just made me so mad because you were talking about a future that we might not even have." Clarke mumbled around Lexa's neck, tickling the small hairs at the back of her head.

Lexa just clasped her arms tightly around her wife, allowing her to take comfort in their embrace. She pulled away slightly so that their faces were inches apart from one another. "Oh love, I'm here, and I'm always going to be here with you. You're the love of my life, and death himself would find me difficult to take away. Nothing will ever keep me from you, or from our future."

Lexa looked into the different hues of blue in Clarke's eyes, taking in every second of it. "I'm not your father. I know death is inevitable, and one day we might have to face it. But while we are living, breathing, there won't be one second where I forget that I'm married to you, that you are mine and I am yours." She tilted Clarke's chin so that they were level, their lips almost touching. "We're only given a certain amount of time in this world, but in every single heartbeat that I have I this life, I am going to spend it loving you."

Clarke closed the distance between them, catching Lexa's lips in a passionate, searing kiss. It conveyed all the love that she had for the brunette, said all that she couldn't with all the words in the languages of this earth. Lexa felt lightheaded, as if she were flying. When they parted, Lexa rested her forehead against Clarke, one hand stroking the small of her back. Clarke's hands played with the strands of Lexa's ponytail, breathing the same air in unity.

"I don't know why I get so crazy." Clarke whispered, and Lexa laughed, tugging the blonde closer to her.

"You're crazy about me, that's why." Clarke smirked at her wife's words, brushing her lips against Lexa's nose, hovering before her mouth. Lexa resisted the urge to kiss her. "I love you, and you love me. We're one, and this, this is all I ever wanted. Having a kid with you, that's just another person in our family that I will love just as absolutely as I love you." Clarke blinked, her eyes slightly wet, and Lexa lifted them onto the bed, taking a seat on the edge with Clarke still on her lap. "When we have a child together, I'm going to love the crap out of them, and we're going to teach them how to walk, how to talk. And I'll protect our child with everything I've got, their heart, their life, and their mother."

Clarke gave her a watery grin, and she gently brushed her nose against Lexa's. "So you're going to be the stern protector?"

"I've got a gun, I'd assume so." Lexa chuckled, and Clarke laughed, burrowing her face into the junction of Lexa's neck and shoulder.

Every individual lived their life on borrowed time. Time that could disappear between one's sights, something that Lexa saw everyday as a homicide detective. Yet she was sure, that if she was never to have a second more that she had already lived her life to her fullest potential. Clarke made her a true woman by loving her, and for that, she was eternally grateful.


	2. Chapter 2

She buried her in their favorite park. It had rained the night before, leaving the soil damp and prime for the task she had set out to perform. Thus she toiled, her arms burning as she worked, the shovel tearing into the earth in a rhythmic manner under the heat of the mid-morning sun. When the deed had been done, she sat at the bench overlooking the lake, arms crossed over her chest as she sat in her self-imposed vigil.

It was not until the sun had begun to align at the horizon, beginning its descent to the ground that her mother appeared at her side. The wooden planks creaked slightly under the additional weight of the elder woman. In silence, they sat together.

Her mother's blonde locks were streams of gold, flowing gently down and resting across her shoulders. Even as she refused to meet her mother's eyes, she knew that the cerulean pools of light – of love – had sights set on her, and her alone. It took hours and many deep breaths before she had formed the courage, the will to speak.

"I buried her under the shade of the cherry tree, where we used to lie there and just escape the heat." The corners of her mother's mouth turned upwards.

"I remember that." She said softly. She seemed to be waiting for her daughter, testing the waters. But when she did not say another word, the mother was gentle. Fingers brushed through brunette strands, a hand ran across her offspring's cheekbones soothingly. "You were six years old, a wild, untamed thing, eagerly setting out to cause trouble." Clarke laughed quietly. "And that dog of ours was just as ready for the adventures that she would partake with you."

Her daughter released a choked, watery chuckle that sounded as though it tore from her throat. "She had no idea, the trouble she was signing up for, when you guys brought her home." She thought of her dog.

She had come to her small and skinny, its coat dull and ragged. She was a dog of undeterminable origins, though her mother had argued robustly that there was Australian Cattle dog in her. She cast her glance to the now rusty jungle gym, where she had fallen once, when she and Blue had ran away together in the bright spring morning. Instinctively, the palm of her hand drifted down to the scar on her left kneecap, where she had scraped it, only for Blue to pad over, licking the wound and the tears that had leaked from between pained green eyes.

She saw the bramble bush where in her adolescence, she had kissed her first boyfriend under the shade of its branches, her loyal companion resting meters away. Almost painfully, she thought of the times she had left her, and the agony searing in her chest was too much.

She looked anywhere else, the green grass underfoot, the dirt path only lengths away, the calm surface of the lake.

Clarke saw those green eyes, eyes that were eerily similar to her, eyes that she had missed sorely. She saw those eyes, so alike, yet different. Her daughter's eyes were still innocent, pure. She remembered the crinkles at the side of mischievous green orbs when she had cracked a joke, or was feeling particularly proud of her daughter. Even now, the woman missed the presence of her strong arms looped over her shoulders as they had sat many times on this bench, of her booming laugh and the look that was reserved only for her.

"I miss her."

"I miss her too." Clarke wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders, and in that instant, both women knew they were talking about a different her. But the pretense was a comfort; perhaps the words that had not been said before were better left spoken now. "She was a good dog."

"The best dog." Her daughter agreed. She rested her head on her mother's shoulder, and together, they surveyed the vast expanse of water before them. Overhead, the stars began to dot the sky, and as Clarke redirected her gaze upwards, she smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun bled across the dark blue sky, leaving its blood-red fingers painting the blue canvas above as they walked arm-in-arm down the evening quiet of Seattle's moderately busy streets. Couples, some with children, strolled in the evening light. Atypical of the time, many were making their way towards the multitude of restaurants that lined the streets, and as Clarke watched, she clenched her jaw as the feeling of longing and loneliness threatened to consume her.

"What would you like to do for dinner?" Clarke asked her daughter, trying to distract herself. The two women had their arms linked together as they ambled along the sidewalk.

"Can we go to Cesareo's?" Quinn's request was innocent enough, and as they continued walking she did not notice her mother's sudden discomfort. Clarke felt her throat restrict with the emotions that began to well up, her heart clenching painfully at even the mention of that place.

Her posture was stiff, and despite the years that had passed between now and her last visit, Clarke could not fight the memories that rose, unwanted, into the forefront of her mind. "I can't." She blurted. She stopped abruptly, pulling her arm from her daughter's hold.

Quinn looked at her with surprise. "Why not?" Then it dawned on her, the recognition shining in those familiar green eyes. She stepped closer to her mother, pulling her into a warm embrace. Clarke was still stiff, uncomfortable in the hold, but within seconds she relaxed into it, her arms coming to wrap around the other woman.

"I'm sorry." Her apology was muffled in the fabric of her daughter's jacket. "I'm – I just can't go to that restaurant, or anywhere that we've ever gone as a family, when she was still here." Quinn's hold on her only tightened in response.

"It's okay mom." She pulled back so that she could meet Clarke's gaze. "I know how hard it is for you." Clarke released a watery chuckle as she beheld the solemn woman before her.

"You are so much like your mother." Clarke said quietly, a hand cupping Quinn's cheek gently. "We were so lucky with you." Quinn snorted at those words, but she did not break away from Clarke's hold, allowing her to scrutinize her appearance. "If only she were here to see how much you've grown." She sighed, her gaze drifting off to the restaurant across the street, her face adopting a mournful expression.

That was where she had sat. Clarke's eyes traced the window seat, a table for two. That was where they had their first date.

Quinn felt her own grief threatening to overflow, and she inhaled sharply to contain the emotions attempting to swim up to the surface of her calm façade. "We should probably just go home then?" She asked gently.

Clarke snapped out of her reverie, her eyes reclaiming their previously sharp and inquisitive quality. "Yes, let's." With her daughter's offered arm, they strode off in direction of their car, leaving behind Lexa's memory with each short stride, causing Clarke's heart to fragment with each step.

When they had finally gotten home, Clarke was drained. She felt a heaviness weighing in her bones like lead, pulling her down as she moved. Yet she toiled, and she gathered her strength and walked into the kitchen.

"So what would you like for dinner?" She asked. Her hands instinctively reached for the frying pan, placing it onto the stovetop in preparation for her child's request.

"Actually, I think I'll handle it." Quinn walked over. She placed a hand over her mother's shoulder, steadying her. "You look very tired." Clarke's mouth was opening in protest, but her daughter shook her head. "Mom, seriously, go watch some TV, just leave me to it."

"Fine."

Their dinner was eaten in silence. To Clarke's chagrin, Quinn had made chicken carbonara. It was Lexa's favorite dish, and also the first – and last – recipe that the woman had ever taught her daughter. Nonetheless, Clarke ate it with false heartiness, making sure to compliment her daughter's cooking and to politely decline the offered glass of wine. Despite how she felt right now, Clarke knew better than to drown her sorrows in glass after glass, not when her daughter had much greater cause to do so that her.

After the dishes were washed and the dining table was cleared, Clarke's steps took her down the hallway and to her room without even a conscious thought. She closed the door, and immediately slid to the ground, her back against the door. Her eyes scanned the room. In the dark and the quiet, the moonlight streaming in through the windows, Clarke's gaze roved over the cabinets, the bookshelves lining the walls, the pictures adorning the nightstands. When she finally stood, making her way over to the centerpiece of the room, her fingers reverently grazed the soft comforter that her wife had loved so much. The bed had seemed immeasurably larger for a long time, yet now as she set her sights on it once more, all those hidden and squelched thoughts reared upwards into her mind again.

"Oh Lexa, what will I ever do without you?" The words came from her mouth unbidden and unknowingly, and she sat down on the edge of the mattress, covering her face with her hands. She closed her eyes, and she imagined her wife's gentle touch at her waist, her lips grazing the soft flesh at the back of her neck. Suddenly, there was that all-too familiar creak in the floorboards that always made itself known just inches from the door, and Clarke smiled wryly. "You can come in sweetie." She called softly.

Quinn opened the door silently, and she took her place next to Clarke on the bed, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They sat together in the darkness; the moon beams the only light that adorned the room, until Quinn decided to breach the silence.

"Mom, can you tell me how you met – "

"How I met your mother?" Clarke interrupted. There was a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she said it, and as she met her daughter's gaze, the two chuckled lightly in the dark. It was after the laughter had ended that Clarke took her request seriously.

She shuffled back, moving so that she wriggled under the covers, her back against the headboard. She motioned for Quinn to join her, and as she did, the corners of Clarke's mouth turned upwards. "Are you sure you want to hear that boring old story?" She asked quietly. Quinn rested her head against Clarke's shoulder comfortably, and nodded. With a smile, Clarke took in a deep breath, and began. "We were – like you, college students – when we first met."

 

\----

 

The morning sun was brilliant, shining down with unrelenting heat. Clarke sat on the deck of the apartment, her sketchbook in her hands as she drew the landscape before her. This building had many issues from the beginning, from the laughable conditions of the showers, the nosy neighbors, and the high cost of rent. However, what had really sold her and her roommates – Octavia and Raven – was the breathtaking view. The instant Clarke had stepped foot into the apartment, she had seen the world, the city, from the floor-to-ceiling windows, and it was love at first sight.

From the moment they had moved in, every morning, Clarke had made it part of her ritual. She would, every morning without fail, sit out on the deck and sketch. From the skyline that stood faraway, proud and unhindered before her, to the surrounding trees and the calm of the lake that nestled a stone's throw away from her reach.

She was admiring the view this morning, the pencil she had with her unused as she looked, not upwards or beyond as she typically did, but downward at the street. The figure of a runner, eating up the concrete in long, languid strides had captured Clarke's attention. The young woman's long legs were in full display, the blue shorts she was wearing riding high on her thighs as she ran.

Every morning at 7 o'clock for the past few days without fail, Clarke had seen the brunette running past the building. From the distance of her deck, Clarke could not help but admire the woman from afar. She rested her chin on her hand, her elbow propped up on her crossed legs as she looked down and watched the woman race past the building, toned arms pumping at her sides as she ran. Clarke had noticed on the second day, when the woman had foregone her t-shirt in exchange for a tank top that she had what appeared to be a tribal tattoo on her right arm. It was an intricate design, and though she would never admit it, Clarke had often dreamed about drawing the tattoo, among other parts of the brunette that she shamelessly thought about.

Clarke sighed loudly. She had seen the woman's face once, when she had looked over her shoulder before passing a man with an easily distracted husky in tow. She was beautiful, and young, likely around her age. High cheekbones, what Clarke made out to be green eyes, and a chiseled, defined jawline, even the thought of her made her embarrassingly excited, and she sighed once more as the brunette's lean figure disappeared from view as she turned the corner and continued her workout in the adjacent street.

"You're drooling again." At the sudden intrusion, Clarke nearly leapt out of her seat, her sketchbook landing on the floor of the deck with a distinctive plop. When she had regained her senses, Clarke glared at the newcomer.

Octavia leaned against the sliding door, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, clearly ready to go to class, a shit-eating grin on her face as she watched Clarke fumble to grab her sketchbook and the pencil that had rolled under the patio chair. "You're an ass." Clarke retorted when she finally stood up, all of her belongings accounted for.

"Please." Octavia waved a hand carelessly. The blonde sidestepped the other girl and walked into the apartment, collecting her bag and the travel mug that Raven handed to her on her way past the kitchen and towards the hallway.

Octavia was right behind her, putting on her boots as Clarke slipped into her sneakers. The two were out the door in seconds, with Raven waving them off, eyes never leaving the paper she was reading as she sat at the kitchen table.

"Seriously Griffin, you've been pining after that runner girl for days now, just go down and talk to her." Octavia encouraged as they boarded the elevator.

"And say what O? Hey I've been watching you run for the past four days, and I think you're really hot?" Clarke retorted as she took a sip of her coffee.

"Yes!" Octavia chirped, and Clarke rolled her eyes. "Clarke seriously." Octavia grabbed the blonde by the shoulders, facing her with a solemn expression in her eyes. "It's been, what? Months since you've been with anyone."

"And I'm enjoying the time I have by myself." Clarke answered. The elevator doors opened, and Clarke stepped out quickly, leaving Octavia to scramble after her. Clarke had made it out the door before Octavia caught up to her.

"Come on Clarke, let's be honest with each other right now, okay?" She panted as she padded after her. When she finally made it to the blonde's side, she inhaled breathily. "You've been so uptight since January, and I think Raven would agree with me when I say that you seriously need to get laid." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "It'll loosen you up."

"O, as much as I appreciate the concern that you have for my sex life, I am perfectly fine, and I don't need you pimping me out just to get me to loosen up." Clarke sighed as they walked.

"Really? Then why have you been watching that brunette with the same sappy look on your face as you had when you were still dating Finn?"

"Octavia, just drop it." Clarke groaned. "And I said never to mention him again." They soon were enveloped into the crowd of college students on campus, and in the madness of the crowd, Octavia linked her arm through Clarke's so as not to lose her.

For a few minutes, to Clarke's relief, there was no time to talk as they pushed through the campus grounds. It wasn't until they had reached the quad, where the typical crowd began to filter off into different veins of the school grounds, that Octavia continued the conversation.

"I'm just saying Clarke, Finn was an asshole, and he deserves every bit of that pregnancy shit he's dealing with right now, but now it's time for you to move on." Clarke fought the urge to roll her eyes at the cliché words, and she just squeezed Octavia's side, eliciting a yelp of surprise from the brunette.

"I get it O, okay? He was an ass, but I have moved on." Clarke said. "I haven't thought about him in ages, and I'm doing perfectly fine, I got an A plus on that midterm last week." She glanced down at her watch, and she began walking backwards as she spoke, eager to get to class. "I'm doing great." Clarke added, before she turned and began a brisk walk off in the direction of the lecture hall.

"If you say so!" Octavia shouted after her, before she lost sight of the blonde in the crowd of students.

 

\----

 

It was a lazy Saturday morning, and Clarke was sitting out on the deck again. This time however, she was actually sketching. She had been inspired the instant she saw the sun's arc up in the bright blue sky, illuminating the sidewalk and the cherry blossom trees that bordered the concrete. For the next few minutes, Clarke was engrossed, fully committed and throwing herself into the work.

"Whatcha sketching today Griffin?" Raven sat down on the chair next to her, and Clarke acknowledged her with a slight twitch of her head. She applied the finishing touches on the tree she had toiled over, then looked up.

"The street." She handed the sketchbook to Raven, and the other girl took it, examining the drawing. Clarke cracked her knuckles, checking the time on her watch before she remembered what day it was.

"This looks great Clarke." Raven praised her, and Clarke smiled. Clarke stretched her arms above her head, the other girl flipping through the other sketches in the book. The blonde took a sip of the coffee Raven had brought out for her, and she was in the process of savoring the deliciously brewed drink when the other girl had turned a page, and Clarke instantly abandoned the mug.

"Raven give me the book." She said quickly, panic filling her voice.

"Oh my god, is this the girl that you've been looking at?" Raven asked rhetorically, her eyes squinting as she looked at the sketch of the runner captured within the confines of the page.

"Raven give it to me!" Fighting to ignore the warm flush that spread up her neck and cheeks, Clarke leapt from her chair in an attempt to snatch the sketchbook from her roommate's hands.

"Nope!" Raven jumped up from the chair, avoiding the blonde as she reached out both hands to reclaim her work. "O was so right! You are into this girl!" She crowed as she swerved to avoid the desperate girl. Raven moved closer to the other side of the deck, and Clarke was hard on her heels.

"I'm going to kill her, and you!" One of Clarke's hands managed to grip a corner of the book, and she pulled. "Let it go already!" She yelped, mortified. It was a mad scramble away from the blonde, with Raven putting one hand out to push Clarke away by the face. Clarke made a frustrated sound, and she resumed her assault on the other girl, pushing her closer and closer to the railing.

Before Raven could even retaliate, she felt her side contact the railing, and in a jolting sense of panic and a persistent fear of heights, she relinquished her hold on the sketchbook in favor for gripping tightly to the metal railing.

The two girls watched in bewildered astonishment as the large sketchbook soared out of Raven's grasp, and over the railing and out of sight. Clarke and Raven met each other's gaze, and the two girls rushed over to see it flying down the side of the building, and then hitting a brunette squarely on the top of her head. The following yelp sent Clarke's heart into overdrive as she recognized the girl.

"What the fuck?" The brunette exclaimed, a hand coming up to rub her head.

Immediately, Clarke hid out of sight, dropping to the ground to cower in the safety of the covered railing and Raven, once she had connected the dots, let out a loud chortle. "What are you doing?" She asked between her laughs. Before Clarke could answer, they both heard a loud, angry voice from the street below.

"Which one of you idiots is the owner of this notebook?" Raven nudged Clarke with her foot, but the blonde refused to budge. With a dramatic eye roll, Raven looked down to the streets and the waiting brunette below.

"That's my friend's, I'm sorry she dropped it by accident." Raven called down to her. "If you could wait a few minutes she'll come down and apologize."

The runner glanced up at her, her sharp green eyes narrowed as if she was trying to determine if she was being hoodwinked. Then she gave a brief nod with her sharp chin, and Raven turned her head to Clarke.

"Go down there!" She urged her.

"Are you serious?" Clarke faux whispered, her eyes alit with fear and indignation. "I just hit her with my sketchbook! That thing weighs a ton, and she sounds pissed!"

"Go down!" Raven reached down and pulled Clarke to her feet. "Remember that movie we watched, We Bought a Zoo?" The blonde gave Raven a bewildered look.

"How is that even relevant?" She snapped. Clarke chanced a glance down at the street below, and low and behold, the brunette was still standing there, her hands on her hips.

"Twenty seconds of extreme bravery." Raven said. She shook Clarke wildly to make her concentrate on her words, her hands clasping her shoulders.

"That is so cliché, and you're using that to get me to go down there?" Clarke asked incredulously, her eyebrows scrunched up with mild annoyance."

"Don't fight it," Raven shook her again, slapping her lightly on the cheek. "Twenty seconds okay? Now go!" She shoved the blonde away with a hand behind her shoulder blades, and Clarke gave her one last glare before she walked to the hallway. "Run girl!" Raven called after her, and Clarke did not bother giving the other girl the satisfaction of responding verbally, flipping her off instead.

She did however, heed her advice, and strode at a brisker pace.

"You hit mom on the head with a sketchbook?" Quinn asked incredulously, her head turning to face her mother. Clarke laughed. The sound was melodious and genuine, and the blonde seemed to light up at just the thought of her wife. She looked younger as the smile broke out across her face, and Quinn nuzzled closer to her mother's shoulder.

Quinn noticed the change in Clarke's attitude, and she smiled inwardly, happy that her mother was starting to regain some of her former joy. She had not seen nor heard such a genuine chuckle from her mother in a very long time, and she urged her on with a gentle smile.

"Yes I did, and she was mad. Well at first." Clarke said, a goofy smile on her face as she recalled that day.

By the time she had rushed out the apartment building, the brunette was facing away from her, standing one-legged on the side of the pathway. She held the black sketchbook in one hand, the fingers of her other hand gripping her shoe as she stretched her quad muscles.

"Hey there, um, sorry I hit you on the head with my sketchbook." Clarke started, trying her best not to ogle at the toned muscles of the other girl's legs.

"I hope that you have a better apology than that." The brunette's tone wasn't as angry as it was minutes before. "That thing probably gave me a minor concussion." Her voice had a tone of resignation as she released her leg, and finally she turned to face her.

At once, Clarke felt powerless under the other girl's gaze. Her eyes were green, Clarke mused. From afar, she was beautiful, from a few feet apart, she was even more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. She stood there, gaping at the brunette, and to her surprise, she found the other girl doing the exact same thing to her.

"I'm sorry, I uh, came across as angry and volatile." The brunette struggled, the strict set of her face softening as she looked straight into Clarke's eyes. She raised her hand, offering it to Clarke in a conciliatory gesture, which the blonde took gently. The brunette's hand was calloused but paradoxically gentle, as if she was afraid she would hurt her.

"I'm sorry I hit you on the head with my sketchbook, its super heavy so it must have hurt like a bitch." Clarke amended, releasing the other girl's hand almost reluctantly. She missed the contact immediately, and nervously pushed her hands into her pockets.

"No, it's all right, I'm just not used to getting interrupted on my runs." The brunette gestured skyward with her chin. "I never would have expected a notebook to fly out of nowhere and hit me on the head." The offending object in question was offered out in the space between them, and Clarke took the sketchbook from her hands.

"Well, yeah I think the forecast was for sunny skies, not raining notebooks." The joke burst from her mouth in a momentary lapse of judgement, and Clarke internally kicked herself. "I'm sorry, that was a bad joke, I'll just…" She curled a wayward piece of her hair behind her ear, attempting to hide the blush that was forming on her face.

To her astonishment, the brunette simply chuckled in response. "That's okay, it wasn't that bad." She smiled tentatively. "I'm Lexa."

"Clarke." The blonde returned the smile, hugging the sketchbook to her chest. Lexa reached up with both hands to tighten her ponytail, and Clarke resisted the urge to stare at the well-toned biceps in display.

"Do you always throw your notebooks down at innocent runners?" Lexa asked in a teasing voice, and Clarke grinned.

"Only at the attractive ones." She said, and Lexa smirked.

"So you think I'm attractive?" The brunette asked, cocking her head to one side. Clarke's eyes widened, and she blushed.

"Well an artist should never ignore a beautiful example of the female form." Clarke mumbled, and Lexa's grin only widened.

"Well then, Clarke, I can't fault you on that." Lexa chuckled. She glanced at the watch on her left wrist. "Shit, I've got to get going. I've got a meeting in an hour." The brunette knelt down on one knee and began to retie her shoelaces in preparation for her run.

At her words, Clarke felt a flash of disappointment, and she scuffed the concrete with the heel of her shoe. "Okay, again, I'm sorry for giving you a potential concussion." Lexa glanced up as she tied her shoe, the ghost of a smile on her face.

"Apology accepted, and sorry for snapping at you." Lexa said. She stood, and after stretching out both legs, she casually said. "Hey, what are you doing this afternoon?"

"Probably nothing, just lying around in my apartment." Clarke gesticulated with her index finger to the building behind her.

"Would you, um," Lexa stuttered slightly, "like to get dinner with me?" She asked. Clarke looked at the brunette with a stunned expression, shocked into silence, and after a few heartbeats Lexa cleared her throat. "You know, to make sure I didn't go home after that meeting, fall asleep, and never wake up." Lexa joked.

Clarke just stared at her, stunned. It seemed too good to be reality, that the girl she had dreamed about and admired from afar would even be interested in her.

"Or not, that's fine." Lexa chuckled awkwardly, her eyes avoiding the blonde in front of her before she moved to continue her run. Those words immediately snapped Clarke from her reverie, and she scrambled to find her voice.

"No wait," In a panic, Clarke reached out and took hold of Lexa's bicep. She marveled at the muscle in her grip, and she released her arm before she lingered for much too long. "I would love to."

Lexa, whose expression had been somewhat flushed and embarrassed moments ago, lit up into a smile. "Great," The brunette searched for her phone, instinctively reaching down for her pockets in vain.

"Here." Clarke opened a blank page of her sketchbook, and she quickly scribbled her number on the corner of the page. Tearing out that section of the page, Clarke offered it to Lexa. "Text me after your meeting?"

Lexa took the piece of paper, sliding it into the iPod carrier on her arm. "I will." She smiled at Clarke. "I guess I'll be seeing you then." She grinned and waved before she spun on her heel and was taking off down the street.

"So who's the best wing woman ever?" Raven called down to Clarke. Clarke looked up to see Raven's eager face, and she once more raised one finger into the air to her, which only elicited a less than favorable response from her roommate. "Hey, save that for the hottie tonight." Raven nodded to Lexa's retreating form with a shit-eating grin, and Clarke rolled her eyes.

"Shut up Reyes." She retorted, looking down to hide her reddened cheeks at the thought of what Raven was implying.

Clarke watched Lexa go, her eyes never leaving the running figure of the girl. "Lexa." She said. The name rolled off her tongue naturally, smoothly, and at the repetition of her name, her heart raced with excitement.


	4. Chapter 4

"So how did the first date go?" Quinn was settled comfortably under the covers. She had transferred her head to a nearby pillow, lying on her side with her hair fanning out behind her.

"It was horrible!" Clarke chuckled, shifting slightly to adjust her seat. The left side of her rear had gone numb, and she shimmied down the mattress to join her daughter. "The restaurant we went to, Cesareo's, they had some sort of flower that I was allergic to. My eyes were swollen, and I could barely see Lexa's face."

Quinn laughed. "Wow that must have sucked for mom." Clarke frowned at Quinn, and her daughter grinned widely. "I mean, having to see you with tomato eyes, not very attractive at all."

Clarke used a hand to flick the side of Quinn's head gently. "Thank you for that, and I will have you know that your mother was much more compassionate and considerate than you."

"What did she do?" Quinn asked, a hint of eagerness in her voice.

"She saw what was happening, and at first I fought her on it. I told her I could tough it out, but after about three minutes, she shot out of her seat and escorted me to the pharmacy across the street." Clarke smiled as she imagined a 23 year old Lexa pulling her chair out for her, a hand gently on her waist to guide her out through the glass doors. "We ended up going for tacos, back when the food trucks still lined the streets down at the pier."

 

\----

 

"I am so sorry that I brought you to that restaurant, I had no idea that you would have a reaction to those flowers, it's my fault." Lexa started as she led her date along the sidewalk, her hands in her pockets as she sheepishly glanced at the woman walking at her side. The apology had welled up within the confines of her mind as she and Clarke had walked out of the restaurant. Lexa had been the one to choose the place, and now that the night had gone so poorly, she could no longer hold back the guilt.

"Its fine Lexa, you're right, you had no idea. It's not like we traded health records via text beforehand." Clarke assured her. The swelling around her eyes had gone down, thanks to a quick trip to the pharmacy a few streets from the restaurant building. Her face was, thankfully, mostly back to normal, the cool spring breeze wafting across her face soothingly. But Lexa could not help that sinking feeling that this whole disaster was her fault.

With slight nervousness, Lexa broached the topic. "Well, now that I've almost killed you by exposing you to those flowers, do you still think this was a good idea?"

At those words, Clarke stopped mid-step, and turned her head to face Lexa. She could not tell if the brunette was being serious or not. In the brunette's opinion, the girl standing next to her was more beautiful than she could have ever imagined, and quirky and fun and so intelligent, even the thought of being on a date with this girl was like a dream. She raised one eyebrow at the other girl. "Of course." She replied. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Lexa looked down as she scuffed the ground with her shoes. "I hardly think anyone would have wanted a disaster of a first date to make a good impression." She stumbled with the words, fumbling to explain her line of reasoning to the other woman. "And I really like you and I just feel like I might have ruined– "

Anything that Lexa had wanted to say was forgotten immediately as Clarke stepped forward and pressed their lips together. The brunette surrendered into the kiss, her arms instantly wrapping around Clarke's waist, bringing the other woman as close as was physically possible. It was gentle and tentative, and at each stroke of their lips joining together, Lexa could feel the palpitations in her heart increase significantly.

When Lexa pulled away, her arms were still tightly wound around Clarke's waist, her green eyes seemed to take a few heartbeats to come into focus, the heady touch of the blonde's lips, her skin, intoxicating her and making her lose herself completely. Erstwhile, Clarke was watching her with a playful gleam in her blue eyes, enjoying the effect that she had on the brunette.

"Hey, earth to Lexa," Clarke teased her, one hand reaching gently to cup the brunette's cheek. She smirked at the brunette's dazed expression. The other woman finally snapped out of it, and once she had regained her senses and had returned to the sharp reality of the world, she grinned and kissed the top of Clarke's head.

"You surprised me, that's all." Her green eyes were still alit with wonder and bewilderment, still reeling from the feel of Clarke's lips, soft and flushed against her own.

"Lexa," Clarke murmured softly, and Lexa quirked one eyebrow at her. "I really like you, and nothing about this date was as bad as me hitting you on the head this morning."

"True, that hurt like a bitch." Lexa quipped, and Clarke chuckled. With a grin, Clarke gently untangled herself from the brunette's hold, and instead linked their arms together, urging Lexa to continue walking down the street.

"So let's call it even," Clarke amended as they strolled along the sidewalk arm-in-arm. "I hit you on the head, and you exposed me to a flower that I could have been deathly allergic to."

"Whoa, 'deathly allergic' is a bit of a stretch." Lexa argued good-naturedly as she allowed the blonde to lead them along. "It's not like you needed an EpiPen."

"Hey," Clarke squeezed Lexa side, "you're not the one who had swollen eyes for twenty minutes."

"I suggested that we leave multiple times, you didn't have to tough it out." Lexa pointed out, and the blonde pouted.

"You had said as we were walking over that they had the best chicken parmesan you've ever had."

"Well, chicken parmesan isn't worth your beautiful face swelling up for."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" Clarke asked with a teasing look, and Lexa shook her head, fighting to hide the smile beginning to form on her lips.

"Beautiful is just one of the many attributes I happen to like about you." Lexa scoffed, and Clarke raised both eyebrows in challenge.

"Really, what else do you like about me?" Clarke asked, the corners of her mouth turning upwards. Lexa put one fist up before her face.

"Let's see, witty, talented, funny, should I continue?" She shamelessly counted out each trait with her fingers, and Clarke reached out and took hold of Lexa's hand to stop her.

"That's more than enough." Clarke said, placating the brunette. She entwined their fingers together, their hands connected. Lexa tightened her hold on Clarke's hand, and the two continued walking with the crescent moon high above their heads.

 

\----

 

Quinn was still asleep, and Clarke quietly slipped away and crept out of the room. With the click of the door, she entered the kitchen to get some air, letting Quinn rest for a bit longer.

She had just settled down out on the porch, a warm cup of tea and a book in hand, when she saw a red sedan pull up into the driveway. With a sigh, Clarke abandoned the cup of tea and stood from her chair, her feet finding her sandals, still warm from wear just seconds before. She pulled the corners of her cardigan closed, her face assuming a mask of calm and nonchalance as the newcomer cut the engine and stepped out onto the pavement.

"Anya, what are you doing here?" She asked as she walked down the steps to her sister-in-law. Anya pushed her sunglasses up into her messy brown locks as Clarke breached some of the distance between them, coming to meet her next to the vehicle.

Anya closed the door of her car and stood ramrod straight as she faced Clarke. They were only a few feet apart, yet Clarke felt as though she were miles away. The older woman sensed Clarke's detached air, and wordlessly pulled the blonde into a warm, bone-crushing embrace, pulling away after a few heartbeats.

"I haven't seen you or Quinn for a few months since the funeral." Anya paused, her throat constricted as she came across that last word. "I just wanted to be here for you guys, check up on you two." She nervously scratched the side of her head, clearly uncomfortable. There was more that she wanted to say, and Clarke could tell by the way she shifted from one leg to the other, wringing her hands together. There was more to this visit than the reason that Anya had put forth, but for now Clarke decided not to pry.

"Well, you're more than welcome here." The blonde said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest instinctively. Her blue eyes flashed slightly, a sliver of suspicion making its way through the composed façade she was wearing, something that Anya caught immediately despite Clarke's attempts to hide it.

The older woman's head swiveled around the property, her dark brown eyes scanning the driveway and the green lawn beyond. "Where's Blue?" She asked in an effort to clear the air between them. She looked around, as if expecting the dog in question to appear out of thin air, tail wagging and tongue lolling out to greet her.

At the mention of the dog's name, Clarke's face seemed to almost crumple, but she held it together, her chin held strict and forward.

"She passed away yesterday morning." Clarke cleared her throat. Anya's face fell, the side of her mouth quirking. "Quinn buried her in the park."

Anya nodded, then frowned slightly in thought. "Is that even allowed?" Clarke laughed humorlessly, the sound hoarse and raw.

"No idea." She said, brushing a few stray golden hairs from her eyes. "Quinn wouldn't have it any other way." The mention of her niece seemed to make Anya's eyes light up.

"Yes, of course." Anya chuckled. "That girl is ten different kinds of stubborn. Just like – I mean," She paused awkwardly, glancing at Clarke cautiously as if she were going to shatter. Clarke hated that look; she had received the same pitying glances from so many of her friends and family, she was beginning to truly loathe it with a passion.

"You can say it." Clarke said, her voice tremoring slightly. "She's just like Lexa." Just casting her name out into the air physically hurt her, and her arms hugged tightly against her chest. She avoided Anya's perceptive gaze, and instead looked down at her toes.

The silence between the two women was awkward and uncomfortable, and Anya cleared her throat anxiously. "I'm sorry." She murmured. "I know how hard it is for you. It's been a pretty shitty three months for me too back in New York."

"I know." Clarke responded. "I, I just can't wrap my head around it." She said, the words low in her throat. "I miss her."

"I miss her too." Anya agreed, shifting closer to take Clarke's hands into her own. "Every day after the funeral has just seemed like one big nightmare." Clarke sighed, and she allowed the older woman to enfold her into her arms, resting her forehead against the taller woman's shoulder.

"Aunt Anya?" The sound of Quinn's voice startled Clarke, her head snapping up to the direction of the sound. Anya released her hold on Clarke and smiled generously at her niece.

"Quinn! Come here!" She said, grinning as she opened her arms wide.

Quinn was standing at the threshold of the open door, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and Lexa's college hoodie. The girl rushed down the steps and into Anya's arms.

Anya released a grunt as the girl clinched her tightly around the midsection. "Have you been working out?" She choked out as she patted her niece's back. "Because seriously, I'm pretty sure you've broken all my ribs.

With a hearty laugh, Quinn released her aunt. "You've just gotten older, that's all." She retorted cheekily, which earned her a playful cuff on the back of her head.

Clarke watched the exchange with a slight smile, unwilling to interrupt the moment between the two of them. "Why don't we all go inside and have some breakfast?" She suggested.

Anya and Quinn heeded her words quickly enough at the mention of food, and the two women continued exchanging verbal jabs as they marched up the stairs after Clarke.

It was after breakfast was eaten and the dishes were washed that Anya finally revealed the true purpose of her visit. The three women had moved to the living room, with Clarke occupying the recliner while Anya and Quinn sat together on the leather couch.

As she sat, Anya reached into her satchel, pulling out a white envelope. She held it in her hands like it was a fragile young bird, and her eyes searched Clarke's expression cautiously. "This is for you." Anya handed the envelope to the blonde, holding it up in the space between their seats.

Clarke took the offered paper with two fingers and examined it with mild curiosity. The envelope was blank, and she turned it around in her hands a few times. "What is it?" She asked finally, her expression unreadable.

Anya wrung her hands together nervously before she answered. "Around a few days before Lexa died, she sent this letter to me, and this was encased along with it." She ran her fingers through her hair. "It was in regards to your anniversary date, which technically will come up in 24 days. As her gift to you this year, she wanted to take you down this special trip down memory lane for you. Really it was supposed to be some super sappy, un-Lexa-like display of affection." Anya chuckled at the memory. "She had this whole thing set up, you were supposed to get 24 different letters in the days leading up to the anniversary date." Anya licked her lips. "Since today is the 1st of July, I thought it would be appropriate to give this to you anyway."

Clarke's mouth was set in a thin line as she listened, her posture stiff. "So this is the first one?" She queried. Anya inclined her head in affirmation.

"I was the one who was supposed to start it all off by giving the first one to you when I was meant to arrive for the anniversary preparations. The other ones are expected to be coming by mail." Anya explained. "At least, that's what she'd said a few months ago." She added ruefully.

Quinn glanced at her mother, who had gone silent. "Mum, you okay?" She asked in concern. Clarke blinked a few times, digesting the information.

"Yes, yes I'm fine." She shook off her daughter's concern, and her gaze now centered on the envelope in her hands. Clarke pursed her lips as she stared at it. Her expression was blank and aloof, enraptured within her thoughts.

Anya, who was eyeing Clarke, stood decisively. "Quinn, why don't we go for a walk? Let's leave your mom some space to think." She suggested tactfully. Without a word of protest, Quinn followed her aunt out the door.

Alone, Clarke looked at the envelope. She closed her eyes, trying to steady the racing of her heart. Finally, after a few heartbeats, shaky fingers unfurled the edges of the bleach-white paper, pulling out a folded letter. She took a deep breath, and abandoning the envelope, she unfolded the letter, and began to read. Within seconds, she felt a salty tear drip onto the surface of the letter, leaving a stain on the black ink spanning the surface of the page as the memory highlighted in the text swam to the forefront of her mind.

 

\----

 

It was their first fight since they had moved in together. Clarke had received a job offer in New York City that she had rather quickly – and without much thought or consideration – had accepted, and the argument had begun shortly after she had broken the news to Lexa.

"So that's how it is then?" Lexa asked angrily. "You get that dream showing you always wanted in New York, and suddenly you expect me to just pack up my life and go with you?"

"There are opportunities for you there too!" Clarke argued as she stood on one side of the living room, watching as the brunette paced back and forth on the other side of the room. "I know it would be an inconvenience, but I'm sure the NYPD would be an upgrade from Seattle PD."

"An upgrade?" Lexa repeated, furious. "I was going to make the homicide division!" She ran her hands through her hair. "And are we not going to talk about how you just accepted the job and didn't even consider to ask me if that would be all right?"

Clarke crossed her arms, a vehement expression now etched on her face. "You're one to talk." She spat. "You hardly considered me at all when you decided to throw yourself into harm's way two weeks ago!"

"I was saving a kid's life Clarke! That's my job!" Lexa snapped. She let out a frustrated sigh, stopping to face Clarke. "Is my career just a joke to you?" She asked in exasperation. "This is everything I've ever worked for, and you are asking me to drop it and move across the country for a pipe dream."

"Excuse me?" Clarke was absolutely livid now. Her face was red with anger, and she marched, stiff-legged, up to Lexa, her index finger poking the brunette hard on the left side of the chest. "That 'pipe dream' is a breakout showing of the artwork I had worked hard on for years, you could work a bit harder to be supportive of me." She snarled.

Lexa's green eyes were dark with fury. "Why can't you be supportive of me?" She shot back, crossing her arms. "You've always had an issue with my job since I took it five years ago."

"That's because you were a bar-certified lawyer Lexa!" Clarke retorted. "But no, you had to go join the police department instead! Because the threat of bullets flying at your head and high-speed chases is more suited to your adrenaline-junkie ways!"

"I enjoy what I do Clarke!" Lexa countered. "Which is more than you could say about yours!"

"And what," Clarke eyed the brunette dangerously, "is that supposed to mean?"

"You've been moody and stiff-necked for the past ten months Clarke! And if it's not your boss you're pissed at for not giving you the opportunity you need, it's me you've been taking it out on. And for God's sake, I can't take it anymore!" Lexa exclaimed.

"Well then if it's that hard for you maybe we should just go our separate ways!" Clarke snapped. The instant the words left her mouth however, she regretted them.

Lexa recoiled from the blonde, as if she had been slapped. Her nostrils flared as she glared back at Clarke. "Is that what you want, Clarke?" She challenged her, her chin raised imperiously. Clarke, who was never one to back away from a challenge, crossed her arms.

"Is that what you want?" She shot back, her eyes flashing dangerously. Lexa let out a loud groan of frustration.

"Damn it Clarke, if you want me to leave just say it, because if I'm not who you want anymore-"

"Why, am I not who you want now?" Clarke snapped back. "If you want to leave, just go!"

"Oh for fucks sake!" Lexa shouted. She spun on her heel and strode up to the door, her hand on the door knob. "You're so unbelievably difficult!" She threw the sentence over her shoulder.

"Go on then!" Clarke retorted, planting her rear on the leather couch with a loud huff, her arms still firmly crossed across her chest.

She counted the seconds under her breath since she had left, her heart rate slowly beginning to steady. She regretted every word she had said to Lexa, and 1,200 seconds had passed when she finally heard the door creak open.

Lexa slipped inside and closed the door quietly, facing Clarke. Her green eyes were calmer now, and as she met Clarke's gaze, the blonde only saw the same remorse and guilt reflected back to her.

"Clarke, I'm…" She shook her head slowly, traversing across the apartment, and in that pause of one-sided conversation, Clarke was moving towards her to bridge the gap.

They met in the center of the apartment, a few inches apart from each other, their eyes meeting in the space between them. Clarke, ever the courageous one, stepped forward just that inch, and without hesitating, she rested her forehead against Lexa's. Gradually, Lexa's fingers found purchase on Clarke's hipbones, and the blonde placed her hands against Lexa's cheeks.

"I'm sorry I said those things." Her voice was a whisper, quiet and hoarse with all the regret that she could evoke with her mouth. "I'm sorry I told you to leave, I'm sorry I took the job without asking you."

"No, I'm sorry I blew up like that." Lexa said softly. "I shouldn't have done that. And I shouldn't have called your job a pipe dream." She withdrew slightly so that she could capture Clarke's eyes. She needed to truly see her as she spoke. "I love you, Clarke."

Clarke met the intensity of Lexa's gaze, and she glanced down, away from it briefly, unable to see the hurt in her eyes and the honesty pouring out to her. "I know, and I love you too." She whispered. "I was just so excited about getting the opening, I forgot about how upsetting it would be for you when your dream is to be a detective, just like your father."

"Clarke," Lexa squeezed the blonde's waist gently, tilting Clarke's chin up to face her. "You're my dream." She said the words with conviction, her eyes unblinking. "I would give up everything else to be with you."

"Lexa, no I couldn't ask you to do that." Clarke shook her head slightly, distraught and guilty at what the other woman was implying.

"You don't have to ask." Lexa responded. Gently, Lexa brushed her lips against Clarke's temple, and under her touch, the blonde melted against her chest. They stood there, two broken creatures held together by love and sheer will, and as they held each other, Clarke could not ignore the previous panic that had filled her to the brim.

Her hands gripped tightly at Lexa's shirt, clutching to her for dear life, and her voice was broken as she spoke. "Don't ever leave me again." She whispered through clenched teeth as she held back the desperate tears threatening to fall.

"Never." Lexa's arms were strong and warm around her. "When I was outside, cooling off, I realized something. An epiphany." She murmured against Clarke's temple. "I could never leave you, despite what happens, we're destined in every circumstance, to be together."

"Good." Clarke whispered back, and Lexa chuckled slightly, her hold on the blonde secure and solid. As she rested her head against Lexa's shoulder, Clarke willed her to never let go.

 

\----

 

The tears fell at their own accord, and Clarke was powerless to stop them as she finished reading the contents of the letter. The memory of their first fight had unveiled the emotions she had not yet resolved in the past few months, and as she wiped the salty liquid that dotted her cheeks and flowed down her chin, she trembled. Leave it to Lexa to find the sappiest thing to write, she mused morbidly. The brunette had always known just the right thing to say and to write, and as she looked over the letter once more, Clarke sighed bodily.

It was a part of her wife that she would now never experience again, and with a decisive exhale, Clarke folded the piece of paper, and wondered what the next 23 days would entail.


	5. Chapter 5

The second letter came early in the morning. The sky was filled with murky, grey clouds that loomed over the house ominously, covering the sun's face. The soft rumble of thunder was heard just under the hum of the tea kettle as Clarke stood, solitary and quiet at the sink. She looked out the window to the streets and the houses beyond, a pensive expression worn on her features.

The whistling of the kettle jolted her from her thoughts, and soon enough Clarke was sitting at the kitchen bar, blowing gently on her very hot cup of chamomile tea. Her seat gave her the perfect view through the windows, allowing her to glimpse movement that wandered to-and-from the driveway.

That was when she saw the mailman walk over to their side of the street. He waved at her jovially through the window as he placed a few envelopes into the mailbox before he continued on his way, whistling a jolly tune loudly through his teeth.

Anya and Quinn were both still asleep, and there was no one watching her as she practically leapt out of her seat and rushed out the door without a second thought.

Her hands quaked as she opened the mailbox, sorting through the letters as she walked back up the steps and into the house. Two were notices from the city government concerning water usage, and another was the electric bill. It took about three seconds of desperate searching until she came across the one she had so shamelessly craved.

The writing on the envelope was distinctly her wife's; she could recognize Lexa's orderly script anywhere. Abandoning the other letters on the bar, Clarke ripped open the envelope and pulled out the folded paper within.

Unlike the first one she had received, Clarke was disappointed to see that the letter was rather short. It was only one sentence. She scoffed loudly, and let the paper slip through her fingers and onto the surface of the kitchen island. Clarke covered her face with her hands, propping her elbows on the table.

"So what does it say?" Anya's voice jolted her out of her reverie. The other woman had appeared at her left shoulder, peering at the words on the page.

Clarke did not bother responding, instead handing the page to her. Anya read it briefly, her eyes scanning the page efficiently. Then she snorted, her eyes gleaming with laughter.

"What's so funny?" Clarke asked irritably. She did not understand what her wife had been trying to tell her with this one sentence, and she clenched her fists at her side.

Anya chuckled and sat down on the stool next to Clarke. She pointed one finger at the letter. "That this is the memory she wants you to remember." Clarke reread the words on the paper, and sighed.

"She wants me to go to the gun range." She groaned. "The gun range where we had our third date."

"And ask for Gus." Anya added with a mock-serious face, before her face burst into a grin. "Now isn't that romantic." Anya snorted, patting Clarke's shoulder in a conciliatory fashion. Clarke just stared at the page, her blue eyes scrutinizing the letter as if there was some hidden writing that she just could not decipher.

When she still refused to move, Anya nudged her with her shoulder. "Just go down there, maybe there's a surprise waiting for you." She suggested. "Knowing Lexa, she probably has some tricks up her sleeve."

 

\----

 

"I still don't know why I'm doing this." Clarke grumbled under her breath as she parked the car. Anya and Quinn were sitting in the backseat, having decided they wanted to join in on this scavenger hunt.

As she cut the ignition, Clarke sat there, staring. The concrete building looked the same as it did 24 years ago. She had not come back to this place in that long. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel tightly.

Behind her, Anya and Quinn filed out of the car, and Quinn poked her head into the driver's side to address her mother. "Don't be a chicken mom, let's go in." Quinn urged her, and Clarke muttered something under her breath before she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car.

"This is silly." Clarke repeated for the fourth time as they walked over to the doors of the shooting range. Quinn's arm around her waist was the only thing that stopped her from turning tail and running.

"Oh please, like you aren't as curious as we are about what Lexa's left for you." Anya snorted as she led the way. The woman walked up to the front desk and rang the bell.

A few minutes later produced a hulking, balding man that lumbered out from what Clarke knew from memory was the indoor target range. He came up to the desk and scowled at the three women, his dark eyes scrutinizing and critical.

"What can I do for you?" It was more of a grunt than a true sentence, but his atrabilious exterior did nothing to deter Anya.

"We're looking for a Gus?" She asked. The man grunted unintelligibly, and nodded. Without much warning, he turned around and disappeared once more.

"Cheerful fellow." Anya commented as she flashed Clarke a smile. Clarke only nervously returned the gesture. They waited for only a few seconds before a new figure appeared on the other side of the desk.

The man was tall and broad, with short black hair cropped close to his scalp and a beard to complete the ensemble. His eyes were a beady dark brown as he greeted the three women with a smile that made his intimidating features look soft and mild.

"Hello, I'm Gustus, but people call me Gus," He rubbed his beard with a large hand. He gave each woman a polite smile. "Bill tells me you are looking for me?" He asked. Quinn nudged Clarke, and Anya paused, waiting to see if Clarke would speak up. When the blonde refused, Anya sighed before she turned to address the ma.

"Hi, I'm Anya, and this is my sister-in-law Clarke," She gestured with a hand, "and my niece Quinn." She held out her hand, and Clarke reached into her bag to pull out the envelope. Anya took hold of it and placed it in front of Gustus.

"What's this?" He asked with mild curiosity.

"My sister, Lexa Woods, gave Clarke this letter, and she told us to come here to ask for you." Anya explained. Instantly, Gustus's eyes widened in an almost comical manner, and his hands moved up to brush his short cropped hair in realization. He stared speechless, at Clarke, and the blonde nervously shifted backwards, with Quinn holding her firmly in place.

"You're the wife?" He addressed Clarke directly. The blonde looked down at her feet shyly, before finally meeting his intense gaze. She nodded once, dipping her chin just a quarter of an inch, yet that slight movement caused the most surprising reaction of all.

Gustus reached for the box of tissues on the corner of the desk, wiping at the corner of his eyes. The three women were stunned by the astonishing rush of emotion, and Anya leaned forward and uncomfortably patted a brawny shoulder.

"There, there." She said, giving Quinn and Clarke an incredibly awkward expression. Gustus blew his nose noisily, and seemed to pull it together well enough to tuck one large hand under the desk and retrieve a familiar white envelope from the confines of a shelf.

He offered the envelope to Clarke, and she inched forward to take it from his hands. "Thank you." She said quietly, and he nodded, his eyes still welling with tears. Clarke looked down at the letter in her hands, and her legs were automatically moving to the exit, abandoning Quinn and Anya when Gustus called her name.

"She really loved you." His voice was gravelly and croaky as he said it, but Clarke understood it all the same. She turned to him and gave him a tight smile.

"Thank you." Clarke repeated, and this time her companions followed her out the door.

Once they had piled into the car again, Clarke opened the envelope and read like a woman possessed as she tore through the words. In the silence, Anya and Quinn observed as the blonde's eyes flashed from one end of the page to the other until finally, she had finished.

She released a raw, gurgling breath, a hand covering her eyes. Finally, after a long moment, Clarke laughed a short, watery chuckle that made the others wonder about the contents of the letter. They did not have to wait long to find out.

"She says she fell in love with me on our third date." She murmured, her hand falling away to rest on her lap. She looked forward, through the windshield and at the shooting range's tinted glass doors. "She said that me holding a gun and firing it with a squeal was possibly the most endearing thing she'd ever seen or heard, and that it was love from that moment on."

 

\----

 

"Now just make sure your legs are stable and apart, shoulder width is always a good marker for it." Lexa's voice was calm and soothing as she stood behind Clarke, her hands resting deliciously on the blonde's hips as she manipulated her body to the correct posture as she was speaking. Her lips ghosted against the flesh of Clarke's ear, and the blonde's mouth curved into a smile.

"You do realize that I'm holding a gun, right?" Clarke commented as Lexa's chest brushed against her back as she shuffled to help the blonde stand in the proper position. "Now's not the time to get me all hot and bothered."

"Please." Lexa scoffed as her hands drifted up to gently nudge Clarke's shoulders to face the target. "The safety's still on, and you're more likely to drop the gun than to fire it." The brunette teased her as she finally released her and stood off to the side.

Lexa leaned against the separating wall between Clarke's cubicle and hers, crossing one leg over the ankle of the other. Her earplugs were hanging around her neck, and Clarke's eyes wandered slowly from Lexa's eyes to the jawline and the long slender neck below. The brunette seemed to notice her distracted state, and she grinned diabolically.

"Like what you see Griffin?" She asked, one hand on her hip as she teased her date.

"More than like, can I touch?" Clarke flirted back shamelessly, and Lexa's smile only widened at her words.

"Why don't we make this a little more interesting then?" Lexa suggested, and Clarke frowned.

"How?"

"If you can hit that target on the head in your first shot, we can do whatever you want later." Lexa proposed.

"And if I don't?" Clarke asked. "Not that I won't, I'm just wondering what my options are." She added cheekily.

"If you don't, you have to come with me and Lincoln to the gala on Friday." Clarke groaned, pouting at the brunette.

"But I hate hanging out with snobby law school people!" She moaned. "Well, besides you of course." Clarke amended quickly. 

"It can be our fourth date." Lexa suggested, hoping it would be a good incentive for the blonde to agree.

"Ugh." Clarke groaned. She was only inches away from pulling out of the deal, but then she caught sight of Lexa's winning smirk and the way she cracked her knuckles like she had already won, and she immediately made up her mind.

She straightened her stance, glaring out in the distance to the target fifty meters away from her. "You've got a deal, Woods."

"Can't wait for Friday then." Lexa said smugly, and Clarke ignored her in favor for concentrating on the task at hand. She took a deep, calming breath, and stared forward, squinting. She unclicked the safety, her hand hovering over the trigger.

Clarke's steadied herself, her arms straight, and with one more breath, she tapped the trigger once. Immediately, the gun's chamber snapped back, and the sound it made was so frighteningly loud that she released a panicked squeal of surprise.

Lexa laughed loudly at the sound Clarke had made, bending down to grip her knees as she chuckled heartily at the outlandish yelp that had released unbidden from the blonde's lips.

Clarke hid her embarrassment by refusing to glance Lexa's way, and instead turned her attention to the target. That moment of focus instantly brought a winning smirk to her face. Lexa, who was still recovering from her laughter, finally stood to her full height.

"Hey smartass, why don't you look at this?" Clarke indicated with her chin, and Lexa looked in the direction she had pointed at. The result had her gaping, her jaw dropping comically.

"What? How? That's-" Lexa was spluttering as she stared at the target, wide-eyed and disbelieving. The hole in the center of the target's temple was clear even from the distance.

"Impossible?" Clarke asked smugly. "Well guess who just won?" She smirked as she placed the gun on the table and bounced excitably behind Lexa as the brunette moved forward to get a closer look.

"I can't believe this." Lexa finally said, and she shook her head, her brown ponytail swinging as she examined the target again.

"Believe it!" Clarke crowed. "I won! Now I don't have to go to that boring gala." She inched over and quickly pecked Lexa on the cheek. "And the fact that I get to have my way with you tonight just makes the victory all that sweeter."

Lexa chuckled, and she turned to face Clarke, her arms crossed. "Fine, fine. You win." Instantly Clarke pumped a fist high in the air and began a ridiculous, over-the-top victory dance, which only increased the size of Lexa's smile.

Clarke shimmied around Lexa, her dance moves and her swinging arms only getting more outlandish, until she noticed that Lexa hadn't moved a muscle. Instead, she was simply watching her, an affectionate gleam in her eyes. "Are you okay?" Clarke asked, slightly concerned with the brunette's silence.

"I'm fine." Lexa assured her, though Clarke could see that the other woman's eyes were now fixed on her lips.

"You've got that look on your face." Clarke commented, her finger poking the brunette on the cheek. "That pensive look."

"I just think you're really, quite ridiculously talented." Lexa admitted, gesturing to the target with her chin. "You really are more than just a pretty face." She said as she tenderly met the blonde's gaze.

"And you better remember that!" Clarke quipped before she stepped closer to Lexa and brushed her lips teasingly against hers. The urge to deepen the kiss was nagging at the corner of her mind, but Clarke knew better than to start something that they couldn't be able to finish, and so she regretfully pulled away when the desire to request entrance to Lexa's mouth reared its head.

She leaned back, and grinned as Lexa's grasp around her waist tensed in protest. "Let's go?" Clarke quirked an eyebrow at Lexa in question, and the brunette nodded in assent.

"Yup, as fast as possible." She pocketed her earplugs and allowed herself to be led out of the room to the front desk.

"That's dirty." Clarke commented cheekily, which earned a snort from her girlfriend.

"You're just really inappropriate. I shouldn't bring you anywhere." Lexa drawled lazily as she was pulled away by Clarke in the direction of the exit.

"Oh hush."

\----

"That's so cute." Quinn said after a momentary lapse in conversation. Anya immediately made a gagging noise, which elicited a dramatic eye roll from Clarke before she turned in her seat to face her daughter.

"Yeah, I had no idea she had actually fallen in love with me while I was holding a gun." She confessed. "We'd discussed it before, but I always thought she'd been joking." Clarke chuckled lightly as she recalled all those late night conversations, had in the darkness and quiet while Quinn slept. "I didn't know her well enough at the time, but over the years I noticed that she just had those, soulful eyes that seemed to convey just how much she cared for me." Clarke smiled wistfully. "Those eyes became the first indicator of whatever she was feeling, even if she sometimes pulled her walls up and wouldn't talk to me."

"Heart-eyes." Anya supplied the term. "She was a gooey little pineapple." The metaphor made Clarke wrinkle her nose in protest at the other woman.

"But I don't like pineapples."

\----

The next few days passed like a whirlwind for Clarke. Without fail, each day she received a new letter, a new epiphany, as Lexa had termed it. Each letter was numbered, and Clarke kept them in a folder in the study. Most of the memories were distant, very few were closer to the current year, and as she read them all, Clarke felt herself being transported to the decades that she had endured with the love of her life at her side.

The disastrous first date she had recounted to Quinn had been the third one she had received, and the fiasco of the karaoke night she and Lexa had gone to with Raven and her date had accompanied it the next day.

That night was when they had officially become girlfriends. It had had been the first time Lexa had officially met Raven. The shorter brunette had been snarky and sarcastic as she always was, but a nonplussed Lexa had handled the situation with poise and an equal dose of sarcasm. Clarke had always considered that date to have gone wonderfully, despite the rudeness of Raven's date. He had been a complete asshole, and when he tried to flirt with Clarke, that had been the last straw for Lexa, who had knocked on his ass and sent him away with his tail between his legs.

Her words had been brief, but the message was clear all the same; she would always fight for her. After reading it twice, it had left Clarke with a bittersweet taste in her mouth and an ache in her chest; Lexa would never be there to keep her safe anymore.

That ache became ever-present with each passing letter, and Clarke was beginning to wonder the point of all this. It only increased the size of the gaping abyss in her heart, and with every passing day she was unsure of why she continued to read them. But she did it anyway. This was the last thread that connected her to Lexa, and she did not have the courage to deny herself. Clarke heaved a low sigh, her fingers clenching the fifth letter in a vice-like grip as she read.

 

\----

 

"I really hope they don't scare you off." Clarke fussed with the buttons on her shirt, her nervous energy getting the best of her as she and Lexa walked the expanse of the hallway and up to the apartment. Lexa had never been inside before, nor met the rest of the gang, which only made Clarke anxious for the dinner to go well.

Lexa sensed all the anxiety coming off of the blonde in waves, and she raised a hand to steady Clarke's jittery movements. "Clarke, relax." Her eyes were playful and light. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"They could ask you a bunch of inappropriate things, piss you off, or you could end up punching one of them." Clarke blurted, and Lexa blinked a few times in surprise.

"Clearly you've been overthinking." Lexa said soothingly. She shifted closer so that she could kiss the crown of Clarke's head. "It will be fine. I'll try not to punch anyone or get annoyed."

"But what if they get under your skin?" Clarke fretted, and Lexa smirked.

"Don't worry about that." She reassured her, and she clasped their hands together. "Just try to relax, the whole point of tonight is for me to get to know them, so let me do that." Clarke inhaled slowly, her eyes closing for a heartbeat before they opened again. The sea blue depths were significantly calmer than they had been seconds previously.

"You're right." She nodded, tightening her grip on Lexa's hand. "Let's just go in there, screw it. I love you, and that's all that matters." Clarke reassured herself, and she gave Lexa a tense smile as she fished her key out from her pocket.

They were bombarded by people the minute Lexa's foot stepped into the apartment. Raven rushed over and clapped Lexa hard on the back. "Lexa! So glad you could make it, come take a seat!" She tugged Lexa away before Clarke could even raise her voice in objection.

"Clarke, over here." Monty called to her from the kitchen where he was busy preparing dinner. To his left, Jasper and Octavia were occupied with chopping…something…with giant knives. Making note to avoid them at all costs while they were still wielding the sharp, potentially dangerous cutlery, Clarke crossed the living room to Monty.

"Hey Monty." She greeted him with a one-armed hug.

"It's great that you've arrived in time for this." He motioned to the train wreck that was Octavia and Jasper. "I need your help watching the spaghetti while it boils. I've got my hands full with this chicken and keeping those two safe."

"Sure thing." Clarke said, moving to see to the pasta in question. Just before she turned her back on the living room, she cast a glance to find Lexa, and found her seated at the recliner with Bellamy and Raven facing her on the sofa.

"So Lexa, what are you studying?" Bellamy asked, squaring his jaw in an intimidating manner. Lexa blinked calmly back at him as she responded.

"I'm in my last year of law school." She responded tautly, the set of her jaw and the thin line of her mouth indicating to Clarke that she was uncomfortable with the situation. Clarke attempted to leave her to it, hoping to respect Lexa's wishes to let her handle the interrogation herself. Besides, Raven seemed to be doing a good enough job keeping the peace between the two of them.

Bellamy's next question however, had Clarke furious. "Any other girlfriends we need to be aware of?"

Abandoning the pasta amid Monty's disapproving gaze, Clarke crossed the distance between the living room and the kitchen and pulled Lexa up by her hand before the brunette could respond. Lexa's face was filled with a controlled rage as she glared at Bellamy, her fists clenched.

"Babe, why don't you go help over in the kitchen?" Clare glared at Bellamy reproachfully as Lexa got to her feet. "I need to talk to Bellamy privately."

Lexa took off immediately with Raven hot on her heels, leaving Clarke standing in front of Bellamy with her arms crossed. "Do you want to tell what that was?" She asked in a furious whisper.

"Look Griffin," Bellamy started, "I'm just trying to look out for you, just in case she's got another girl on the side or something."

"Bellamy if you don't stop talking right now I'm going to punch you in the mouth." Clarke growled. "Stop trying to sabotage my relationship with Lexa right off the bat!" She hissed quietly.

"I'm just making sure she's not going to break your heart." Bellamy argued defensively, lifting both hands upward to explain himself.

"Let me handle that okay?" She snapped back. "Just try to act like a normal human being for two hours or I swear I'll kick your ass."

"Fine!" Bellamy shook his mop of wild hair from his eyes. "Don't say I didn't try to protect you."

"I don't need your protection!" Clarke hissed before she spun on her heel and abandoned him in favor of joining Lexa and the others on the other side of the kitchen island.

Dinner had mostly gone well, with Bellamy earning the occasional kick on the shin from Clarke when he went too far. Monty had gotten along well with Lexa, seeming to be the only one polite enough to have a conversation with her. Raven and Octavia were…well…Raven and Octavia, and Clarke knew that the evening had actually been executed much better than she had expected.

However, to Clarke's chagrin, Lexa was not spared from observing the shenanigans that the group typically went through, from Jasper flinging a spoonful of mashed potatoes at Monty, to Octavia having a knock-down-drawn-out shouting match with Bellamy when a comment was made regarding Lincoln.

It was shortly after they had finished dinner that Clarke immediately excused herself and Lexa for the night, leaving Raven and Octavia to handle the boys for the rest of the evening.

They were walking to Lexa's car in the quiet. The streetlights were on, the dark sky speckled with silver stars as Clarke linked their arms together, her head leaning on the taller girl's shoulder as they walked. "That was certainly an eventful evening." Lexa's voice was muffled slightly by the collar of her coat.

Clarke adjusted the angle of her head so she could meet Lexa's eyes. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" She asked tentatively, pushing her hands into her pockets as she bumped Lexa lightly with her elbow.

"It's a good thing." Lexa chuckled low in her throat. "Your friends are very protective of you, and I can't find fault in loyalty." She took her right hand out of her coat pocket to link her fingers with Clarke's.

"So you're not scared off by them?" Clarke pressed the brunette, squeezing Lexa's palm.

"Of course not." Lexa sighed. "Bellamy may have crossed the line earlier, but he's like a brother to you, so of course he would act that way."

"I've told him so many times to tone it down." Clarke groaned. "He had no right to interrogate you about your dating history."

"It's fine Clarke, really." Lexa's free hand went up to soothe the frown lines appearing on the other girl's forehead. She gave her a reassuring smile, her hand lingering to remain on the junction between Clarke's jaw and neck. Lexa shuffled close to connect their lips in a placating kiss. "You're worth it." She murmured gently, the words ghosting across Clarke's skin. "I love you, and I'm never going to be chased away by people who love you and want to protect you." Lexa chuckled, and added: "I should thank them really."

"Why?" Clarke pulled away slightly, perplexed by the brunette's statement.

"Because," Lexa brushed away a strand of Clarke's hair to get a better view of the blonde's brilliant blue eyes. "They've been shielding you from the douchebags and the psychos for years, just in time for me to jump in." Clarke laughed, her white teeth flashing under the fluorescent lights. "But I hope that they know now, that protecting you and your heart, that's my job now." Lexa promised, and they kissed once more under the endless black sky and the sliver speckles of light above.


	6. Chapter 6

One winter night when the moon was lost in the thick haze of clouds hanging over the sky, she had risen from the warm confines of her bed and crossed the distance between the dark brown bedframe to the window steps beyond.

Clarke had watched, transfixed, as a moth flew to the window frame and rested, its tiny body humming with energy and life. She had admired the elegance of the insect, her ten year old self reaching out to touch the glass, outlining the shape of the moth as it sat still and quiet. Even at her tender age, she had been struck with the urge, the desire to draw what she had seen.

In fervor, she found a scrap piece of paper and a pencil, and sketched out as much as she could see in the dark, her hand flying across the page as she attempted to bring to life this beautiful creature.

As she stood in her childhood bedroom now, Clarke bit her lip, her fingers kneading against the window frame. She was looking out from the window, mirroring that night. A night she would always remember as the moment that had ignited her passion to create.

"Clarke, honey are you up here?"

"Yes mom." Clarke acknowledged her mother. She strode over to the doorway, meeting the older woman there. Abby was carrying two cups of tea, offering one to Clarke.

The blonde took it wordlessly, and mother and daughter proceeded down the steps to the porch overlooking the property. Clarke chose the chair closest to the edge of the porch, the one with the better view. She had grown up in the suburbs, in a neighborhood that had wide, sweeping lawns that were always green.

As Clarke cast her gaze far toward the horizon, where the hills dipped down and out of sight, she was nostalgic for days spent rolling down those green carpets of grass, her hair wild and loose.

From her own seat, Abby examined her daughter with a critical eye, and it was not until Clarke swiveled her head and met her mother's stare that the conversation started.

"How have you been doing?" She finally put all of her thoughts into words, and Clarke sighed in frustration.

"I wish everyone would stop asking me that." She grumbled. Abby smiled wryly, and crossed her legs casually.

"That was how I felt after your father died." Abby commented. "And I know exactly how you feel. But it doesn't make the question any less valid."

"I lost the love of my life three months ago mom, how do you think I've been doing?" The question was rhetorical, and Abby knew it. "Twenty-four years, we've been together, and it all comes crashing down because of one drunk driver." Clarke huffed, her throat constricted and taut.

"And it seems all the more cruel, I know." Abby said quietly. "But you need to move on." She wrung her hands together, the gleam of her golden wedding band harsh under the afternoon sun. "These letters you've been reading for the past couple days, while it did do me one favor in getting you to visit, it needs to stop."

"And why is that?" Clarke asked, her features morphing into an irritable mask.

"It's just drudging up all these depressing emotions, it's unhealthy."

"Lexa wrote these before she died, Mom." Clarke snapped. "It was a gift for our anniversary. It would be wrong not to read them."

"And look at what it's doing to you." Abby droned on as if Clarke had not interjected. "You're just dwelling in the past, your head high up in the clouds." She frowned at her daughter. "Have you even gone to work since the funeral?"

Clarke huffed loudly, pinching the bridge of her nose in vain to control the fury slowly seeping up into her being. "I sold a painting a few weeks ago, mom. And I'm working on a commission for city hall, so don't start lecturing me about my responsibilities." She grunted.

"Clarke," Abby sighed, "I know that you miss Lexa, but this whole thing that's going on, it's just making the grieving process drag on for longer than it should."

"You never liked her." Clarke interrupted her. She looked up at the bright blue sky. "You never thought she was good enough for me."

"That's not true." Abby argued.

"Then why were you so critical of her when I brought her here to meet you and Dad?" Clarke asked.

"Because you two had already eloped!" Abby exclaimed in exasperation. "You already got married to this woman that we had never met, and you expected us to welcome her with open arms?"

"Not us," Clarke corrected her mother, "just you. Dad was supportive."

"That's because your father didn't know how to read people." Abby responded. "You two were young, and you got married much too soon."

The argument left Clarke with a pang of bitterness in the bottom of her gut as she drove away. Her fingers tapped the steering wheel impatiently as she guided the SUV across the dirt road. The words exchanged with her mother were no different than when she had first brought Lexa home, digging up painful memories of the last time they had visited.

 

\----

 

"What is it you do for a living Lexa?" Jake's voice was gentle and kind as looked curiously at his new daughter-in-law from across the dining room table.

"I'm a member of the Seattle Police Department." Lexa answered as she straightened up from her seat. Clarke, sitting next to her, squeezed her on the thigh bracingly.

"Sounds very fun!" Jake grinned, his blue eyes lit with childish-excitement. "Uniform or plain clothes?"

"Plain clothes." Lexa answered politely, her posture straight and confident.

"Detective, at such a young age." Jake said in surprise. "What division?"

"Vice." Lexa said, a grin sneaking up one side of her face. "Hoping to make Homicide in a few months."

"Ambitious! I like that." Jake chuckled heartily before he dug into his mashed potatoes with gusto. Abby, at his left, frowned at Lexa with a scrutinizing eye.

"But I thought Clarke told me that you had gone to law school." Abby stated casually. "When did you decide that you didn't want to be a lawyer?"

"Mom!" Clarke chastised her, but Lexa gave the blonde the most subtle of disapproving nods, before she graced her new mother-in-law with an answer.

"I did, originally." She explained. "But when I finally graduated, I realized that my heart wasn't truly in the office work and the legal aspects of prosecuting."

"So you became a police officer?" Abby's voice was almost disdainful, and Clarke glared daggers at her mother.

"To honor my father's wishes." Lexa responded firmly. "And to be a part of something bigger than just putting people behind bars." She met Abby's critical gaze with a confident stare. "The justice system has let people down many times, if you just were to look at the percentages of wrongful convictions or poor police work. I wanted to make a difference by doing things the proper way, and even though I'm just one person, I hope that my efforts can save the lives of innocent people." Lexa said earnestly.

Jake, who had been chewing quietly, gave Lexa a warm smile. "How altruistic of you." He praised her, lifting his wine glass to salute her briefly. "I can't imagine a better person for my daughter to be married to."

Abby glared furiously at her husband, but he did not seem to notice at all. Clarke had to stifle the grin that was threatening to spread upon her features. "Thanks Dad, that means a lot." She said, ignoring Abby's scandalized appearance. "And I'm sorry that we eloped, I know how much it must have meant to you."

"That's all right dear." Jake assured her with a kind wave of his hand. "Given the circumstances, and your move to New York in two weeks, it's understandable." He met Lexa's guilty gaze, and added: "Just make sure you watch over my baby girl, and keep her safe." He said sternly.

"Always." Lexa nodded, and Clarke entwined their hands, the golden bands on their fingers glinting cheerfully under the incandescent lights.

 

\----

 

Clarke stood in in the middle of the graveyard, a solitary figure in the late afternoon sun. Her hands were in the pockets of her jacket as she read the familiar inscription on the tombstone. She clutched the day's letter in her left hand as she looked down at the marble. It had told her to come here today, and unlike the day before, she understood her wife's intentions perfectly. Her silent vigil was much too familiar to years past, when Lexa had stood there with her and the conversation they'd had.

 

\----

 

The date of the funeral had been on a long weekend, and Clarke had stood before the tombstone long after the others had left. She stared at the letters on the marble, her eyes bloodshot and stinging as she blinked away the tears that created twin streams down her cheeks. The rain washed away most of the salty liquid from her face, her hair soaked through.

Suddenly, she felt a presence next to her, and an umbrella hovered over her head. "You're shaking." Lexa said worriedly. With one press of her hand, Clarke took the umbrella from her wife and allowed her to remove her own jacket and drape it across the blonde's shoulders.

"Thanks." Clarke croaked, her throat raw and painful. Lexa shrugged half-heartedly, an arm encompassing her shoulders as they stood there together, alone in the graveyard.

Lexa held her for several long minutes as Clarke sobbed quietly, her tears falling relentlessly in the severe grey weather. It was hours later that Clarke suddenly pushed her wife away, and as Lexa gave her a bewildered look, Clarke opened her mouth. "Don't ever lie to me." She said. "Don't be like my dad." She elaborated with as much willpower she had left.

"I won't." Lexa responded, watching as Clarke stood apart from her, her posture rigid and her lip trembling.

"You have to tell me if you're sick Lexa." Clarke continued, and Lexa smiled weakly.

"I know." At her words, Clarke nestled into Lexa's strong chest, pressing her tear-sodden face into the warmth of her body.

Clarke rambled agitatedly into the lapels of Lexa's coat. "I can't, I can't handle-"

"Clarke." Lexa's voice was sharp, as shocking as cold water thrown into your face. She looked at her wife seriously. "I will never, ever lie to you. What your father did was spare you from the fear and the worry in the final few days before the end. He wanted to protect you."

"I don't need protecting!" Clarke snapped angrily, pushing away from Lexa. "I had a right to know, and now he's just – he's just gone." She threw her hands carelessly into the air, backing up and away from the cover of the umbrella.

"Clarke, please, just come back here." Lexa pleaded. "You'll catch a cold." Clarke directed her gaze skyward, searching desperately for something she was not even sure she wanted.

"I just want my father back." Clarke confessed, broken and exhausted. "He was my dad, Lexa, he was an engineer, he created these magnificent things with his own two hands, and he died of cancer. Cancer, Lexa. The most random, unexpected killer possible." She flung the last words up into the air, her hands covering her face in anguish. Clarke crouched down, her hands gripping the grass tightly. "He didn't deserve this."

"I know." Lexa sighed. She squatted down next to her wife, a hand rubbing in between the blonde's shoulder blades. "Death never really makes sense, not to anyone." Her voice was soft, soothing, and Clarke felt it wash over her in a tidal wave.

"Promise me you'll always tell me when something's wrong." Clarke's hands went to the collar of Lexa's shirt. "Promise me we'll always communicate with each other."

Lexa nodded slowly, and Clarke pressed a hand on her wife's chest, feeling the strong thudding of her heart. Feeling her wife standing before her, her heart beating powerfully, Clarke was soothed under the rhythmic thud of the muscle. She was here, in the flesh, and silently they stood vigil together as the rain continued its onslaught over the valley.

 

\----

 

"Next shirt, donate, or keep?" Quinn pulled out a white blouse from Lexa's side of the closet. Clarke was sitting at the foot of the bed as her daughter sorted through her wife's things, two boxes taking up the space on the rug.

Clarke eyed the article of clothing, her eyes softening when she realized which shirt it was. She held out a hand, and Quinn tossed it to her waiting arms. Clarke's nimble fingers searched for that one spot of red on the collar, and once she did, she chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Quinn asked. She poked her head out of the closet, and when she saw what had caught her mother's attention, her eyes widened. "Is that a blood stain?" She gasped. She abandoned the other shirts she had been rifling through to sit at her mom's side for a better look.

"Yup," Clarke grinned, holding the shirt up. Quinn's face was a mixture of disgust and morbid curiosity.

"Was it mom's?"

"Yup. Though she came up with a pretty bad lie to cover it up at first."

 

\----

 

Twenty-six years ago

She double-checked her appearance in the rear-view mirror, and quickly caught the drop of blood on the collar of her blouse. Lexa tried rubbing at the stain, but after moments of wiping with a tissue, she had clearly made no headway.

She referred to her watch, the third time in ten minutes. Clarke was going to kill her.

"You're half an hour late." Clarke growled under her breath the minute Lexa had crossed the gallery floor to kiss her girlfriend's cheek in greeting. The blonde's blue eyes were flashing with irritation, and Lexa gulped visibly.

"I'm sorry, I was caught up interviewing a suspect." She said lamely, and Clarke rolled her eyes. Her mouth opened to chastise Lexa, but she waited until an elderly couple passed by one of her canvases before she spoke.

"This is important to me." She hissed, and Lexa winced outwardly. "And is that blood?" Clarke frowned at the stain on her collar, and Lexa quickly threw up a hand to tuck it out of sight under her coat.

"It's not mine, my partner had a paper cut." She explained, and Clarke's frown only deepened, which caused Lexa to sweat uncomfortably. "Honey, don't be mad, okay?" Lexa strained to explain herself. "I lost track of time, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well you should be. We will talk about this later." Clarke snapped before she abandoned Lexa, stalking away to mingle with potential buyers. Lexa watched her retreating form and exhaled bodily, the guilt gnawing away at her for the rest of the night.

 

\----

 

"So do you want to keep it?" Quinn asked. Clarke's gaze had been fixed on the stain throughout the entire telling of the story, and her eyes snapped up to meet Quinn's inquisitive stare.

"Yeah." Clarke decided, folding the shirt neatly before dropping it into the "keep" box.

 

\----

 

"I was so hard on her whenever she disappointed me, and it wasn't like she could have done anything to change her circumstances." Clarke said as she walked arm-in-arm with Raven and Octavia.

"That's what married couples do." Octavia quipped. "I make Lincoln feel like shit all the time, but he knows I love him, like how Lexa always knew how much you loved her."

Clarke snorted at Octavia's words. "I just wish I could have told her, she was so willing to change for me." The three women continued their walk down the street, and Clarke tightened her ponytail with her hands. "I just didn't want her to have to deal with everything by herself."

"She was tough, Clarke." Raven pointed out. "And she never would have wanted you to worry about things that are out of your control, you'd probably just make things worse by trying to micromanage whatever it was."

"True that." Octavia reached around Clarke to fist bump the other woman, and Clarke nudged her in the ribs in retaliation.

"Don't even try to argue your way out of that one, it's true." Raven eyed Clarke mischievously. Clarke groaned.

"Why am I still friends with you two?"

"Because you love us." Octavia grinned. "So what did the last few letters say?"

Clarke stuck her tongue out at Octavia before she answered. "She made me visit Mom. And I went to see Dad yesterday." Raven whistled lowly.

"You haven't been to see your mom in ages." She commented. "What could she have said to make you go there?"

"Lexa's an asshole." Clarke grumbled. "But she wanted me to remember." She allowed a wry grin to take shape across her lips.

"Remember what?" Raven asked impatiently. "You're killing me with the suspense, and the creepy smile."

"The time when she got my father's approval." Octavia rolled her eyes, a shit-eating grin on her face.

"Ew, I never knew Lexa was such a gooey romantic." She complained.

"Well she might have been a romantic, but she also was pretty bad about letting me help her when she actually needed it." Clarke commented, and even to this day there was a note of frustration in her voice.

 

\----

 

Clarke was in the midst of sleep, drifting in and out of consciousness when the sound of a phone vibrating on the nightstand was heard in the quiet of the room. She felt the bed shift, and Lexa's arm slipped from its position at her waist, leaving Clarke feeling the cold wind blowing through the open window.

As quietly as she could, Lexa pushed the covers from her naked form and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "Woods." Lexa was silent as she listened to the other side of the line, then she sighed inwardly. "All right, I'll be there."

Clarke lifted her head drowsily from the pillow, watching as the shape slid out from the covers and moved in the dark. "Where are you going?" She asked sleepily. Lexa turned and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

"Go back to sleep." She whispered, her breath ghosting over Clarke's skin.

"What is it this time?" Clarke asked sleepily.

"Indra wants me down at the station right now."

"Can't it wait?"

"Nope."

"Ugh" Clarke groaned loudly, her arms moving to link around Lexa's neck, keeping her close. "Why does it always have to be you?" She complained. Lexa kissed her chaste and brief on the lips before she ducked away from her grasp, and Clarke sighed.

In the past few weeks that Lexa had stayed over at Clarke's place, the blonde been dreading the constant and nagging sound of the phone ringing. They would get into bed together, and then in the middle of the night Lexa would be called away to work, leaving Clarke wanting and wishing for her presence on a lonely and empty bed.

This case she had been working on for months kept her awake at night, frequently lying flat on her back, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. The worst aspect of it was the lull of conversation. She never seemed to want to talk to her, and Clarke more often than not was greeted with an occupied expression and a distracted mind. It only increased her concern when Lexa would refuse to answer her questions, and in more than one occasion, her prodding had led to Lexa leaving – but not to go to work, but to go home to escape Clarke's questions.

"It's urgent. One of my informants says she has some new information for me, and she'll only ever talk to me." Clarke rolled her eyes at Lexa's excuse, and stretched out both arms, the covers falling below her chest.

"Sure you still want to go?" She asked in a last-ditch attempt, hardly bothering to right the comforter, providing her girlfriend with what she considered a great view. Lexa huffed loudly at the sight, and Clarke smirked, winking enticingly.

"Clarke." Lexa growled. Her eyes were filled with annoyance, her gaze distracted as she returned to the task of searching for a clean shirt to wear. "Stop teasing me when you know I have to leave."

"Like that matters." Clarke huffed in annoyance, propping her head with her hand. "Even when you're here physically, your mind isn't."

"Clarke, can we please talk about this later?" Lexa groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She could already feel the migraine beginning to creep into her system. "I really have to go."

"Go." Clarke's response was muffled as she turned her back on the brunette. Lexa released a loud sigh of exasperation. After a second of deliberating, she leaned down and tucked the covers over her girlfriend.

"I'm sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you soon." She whispered in the dark. "We'll talk about this later." Clarke only burrowed deeper into the bed, ignoring her. With a low, disappointed sigh, Lexa righted her posture and left, collecting her things on the way out.

Lexa was absolutely exhausted walked up the steps to Clarke's apartment. But she was in a good mood today, if the extra spring in her step and a winning smile was any indication. However, it was to the sight of her irate girlfriend sitting on the couch, her foot tapping on the hardwood floor impatiently that instantly wiped the smile from her face.

"Clarke." Lexa started nervously, taking in Clarke's fuming expression and her flared nostrils. "Are you okay?" She asked, shifting uncomfortably as she shot look of concern in Clarke's general direction, her eyes only barely meeting the other woman's scrutiny.

"No I'm not." She said sharply. The blonde stood, her hands in fists at her side she marched up to Lexa, their noses mere centimeters apart. "I'm tired of this." She snapped, a hand gesturing to Lexa.

"Of me?" Lexa asked with a frown.

"Of what this job is doing to you." Clarke clarified, a hard edge in her tone. "I'm tired of holding one-sided conversations, of being kept out of the loop of whatever you're doing."

"But Clarke-"

"No Lexa, you listen to me right now." Clarke fumed, glaring daggers at her. "It's been months of you shutting me out, even though I know that this case has been driving you over the edge for days."

"Clarke-"

"You barely eat," Clarke continued, ignoring Lexa's attempt to interrupt her. "And I know that you haven't slept in a while, on purpose, because you want to avoid those nightmares that keep creeping up on you."

At the mention of that topic, Lexa's expression immediately went from stunned and alarmed to defensive and wary. "I don't know what you're talking about." Lexa rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably, her other hand in her pocket.

"Really?" Clarke's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Then what do you call what happened a few nights ago?" She raised one eyebrow.

"I had a migraine." Lexa lied, the corner of her eye twitching, and Clarke knew she wasn't telling the truth. In frustration, Lexa ran a hand over her forehead, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"Don't lie to me." Clarke snapped. "And that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part is that you stopped talking to me." She hissed before she brushed past Lexa, making her way to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Clarke downed the liquid in one gulp before she glared accusingly at Lexa once more. "You stopped talking, and I had no idea how to help you."

"Maybe I didn't need your help." Lexa objected, her hands on her hips. "Some things you just don't need to know Clarke, this is my job, and there are things that you just wouldn't take well."

"Try me." Clarke retorted angrily, her knuckles white as she gripped the empty glass. "I might not love your job, but I sure as hell want to know if my girlfriend is okay, not just physically, but mentally too." Lexa scoffed immediately, her eyes narrowing.

"Oh so you think there's something wrong with my head?" Lexa snapped, her arms crossing. "You think I'm a nut job now? That I need therapy or some sort of psychology bullshit?"

"That's not what I'm saying." Clarke huffed. "I'm saying that you can't just shut me out, Lexa!" Her eyes were swimming with tears, and Lexa diverted her gaze, uncomfortable with the sudden show of emotion.

"Clarke," Lexa began, quietly now, her eyes trained to the floor. "I'm sorry, but there are just some aspects of my job that I just can't burden you with."

"It's not a burden if we're discussing your health." Clarke argued. "You've been so wrapped up in this case that you haven't even had the time for us." She planted her palms on the kitchen counter. "Have you even stopped to realize what this has been doing to our relationship? We've barely sat down and actually talked for more than five minutes, and the few times we're together, we just have sex."

Lexa shut her eyes in exhaustion. She was tired; she had not slept in 72 hours. In her insomniac state, she leaned against the kitchen counter, mirroring Clarke's pose on the other side of the island. "Clarke," She breathed quietly, a hand pressed to her temple as she fought the fatigue that was encompassing her entire being. "Clarke, please, just let me." Her throat was dry, and she swallowed lethargically. The majority of her body weight was now leaning against the counter, and she struggled to blink away the vertigo to meet Clarke's hard stare.

The blonde however, dropped the argument when she had noticed Lexa's sudden weariness. She rushed over to Lexa's side, a hand hovering uncertainly over the other woman's shoulder. "Lexa?" She asked, distressed. "Are you okay?" She brushed the back of her hand over Lexa's forehead. It was alarmingly hot.

"I'm fine." Lexa pushed off of the counter to stand to her full height, trying and failing to convince Clarke that she was all right.

"You're not fine, Lexa." Clarke fretted, watching her in trepidation. Lexa shook off the concern with a wave of her hand.

"I'm fine Clarke, and you're right." She swallowed through the parchedness of her throat. "You're right, I haven't properly talked to you in weeks, and I'm sorry."

"Lexa," Clarke started wearily, a hand reaching out to help her, and Lexa shrugged her off, shaking her head impatiently, not wanting the blonde to interrupt.

"I solved the case today." She announced weakly, and she rubbed the sweat from her eyes. "And I know it's no excuse, but I did neglect our relationship." Lexa's eyes were agonized as she glanced at Clarke. "Please don't leave."

"Oh Lexa," Clarke sighed, moving forward, and this time Lexa did not shy away from her, allowing her to feel the skin of her brow once more. "I was never going to leave you." She said, her bottom lip between her teeth. "I was just trying to get you to pay more attention to your health. Which was clearly the right idea, look at you." The palm of her hand was soothing and cool against her forehead, and Lexa leaned into the touch. "You're burning up, and you're dehydrated." Clarke murmured.

Lacking the strength to fight any longer, Lexa surrendered completely into the blonde's hold, and Clarke shook her head in despair. "Why couldn't you just let me help you?" She asked quietly, and Lexa grimaced as the blonde's arm wrapped around her shoulders, supporting her weight as she led her off to the bedroom. The brunette did not respond, holding her tongue as Clarke helped her out of her clothes and pulled down the covers to tuck her in.

Clarke fussed with the comforter, tucking it under Lexa's chin before she retreated to the bathroom. She returned with a bowl of cool water and a towel, and she sat at the edge of the bed. Dipping the towel into the bowl, Clarke's hands reached up to wipe at Lexa's feverish brow. Lexa's eyes closed under the soft press of the towel, her breathing evened out.

Minutes passed, and Clarke had assumed Lexa had fallen asleep when she got to her feet to prepare some soup. "Clarke?" Her voice was breathless, hoarse, and Clarke gave her a tender smile.

"I'm just going to make you something to eat." Clarke assured her, running her hand along Lexa's covered shoulder. Lexa blinked, her green eyes clouded with emotions that were hovering near the surface. She swallowed thickly, and settled with: "I am sorry, Clarke. For everything."

"Lexa," Clarke furrowed her brow, "we don't need to talk about this right now, you're tired, and you need to rest."

"No, I've been saying that for days, and look where that got us." Lexa argued feebly. "You are more important to me than the job."

Clarke shushed her with a gentle stroke across the brunette's cheek. "I know how hard that is for you to admit that." She whispered. "I was just, mad that you didn't trust me enough for you to confide in me." She confessed, and Lexa closed her eyes in dismay.

"That wasn't my intent." Lexa rasped, her chest heaving as she breathed. "I just didn't want to worry you, not when you had so much on your plate, with the new commission and the board of directors coming in in the next few days." She rambled, and Clarke leaned down to press her lips to the crown of Lexa's hair.

"I'm never too busy for you Lex." Clarke whispered into the brunette's hair, her breath tickling Lexa's temple. "You're more important to me than some stupid art piece for a bunch of stuck-up pricks." The words brought forth a laugh that lingered in Lexa's chest, and Clarke smiled against the skin of her brow.

"I'll tell you everything, anything you want to know from now on." Lexa breathed, her voice heavy with sleep. "If that's what you want."

Clarke stroked Lexa's hair, her touch gentle. "Rest." She whispered. "We can talk about this tomorrow."

"I love you." The words were exhaled as Lexa finally closed her eyes, leaving Clarke to watch affectionately as she drifted into sleep.

"I love you too, you big idiot."

 

\----

 

Octavia blew a raspberry, and Clarke flicked her between the eyebrows. "Hey!" Octavia was about to return the favor when Raven stepped in between them.

"You two are like toddlers." Raven groaned as she separated them.

"She wanted to know what the eighth letter was about!" Clarke said defensively.

"Yeah I did, until it got super sappy and emotional." Octavia shot back, which made Raven cuff the woman on the back of the head.

"You have the emotional intelligence of a thirteen year-old boy." Raven grunted before she turned her attention to Clarke. "And I think it's beautiful, what Lexa's done for you. Obviously she didn't mean the letters to be opened in these circumstances, but it's still pretty awesome to have."

"Thanks Raven." Clarke smiled. "Although sometimes I wonder why I even bother reading them." When Raven shot her a look of confusion, she elaborated. "I mean, she makes me remember all these memories that are now tainted with sadness, which is obviously not what she intended, but it still hurts each time." She swallowed shakily. "Every letter I open, I relive a time when I still had her, and when I open my eyes, and the memory washes away, I'm just alone again." Her voice died out at the end of her sentence, unable to comprehend the grief and the frustration that had lain dormant in her chest for days. She pulled away from the others to sit down at the curb, her head in her hands.

Raven and Octavia came to sit at either side of her, and she let out a watery laugh. "I'm sorry I'm acting like such a drama queen."

"Well first of all, you are a drama queen." Octavia quipped as she patted Clarke's shoulder, "And secondly, maybe she has a plan for all this."

"Like what?" Clarke turned her head to glance at Octavia, her eyes watery.

"I don't know," Octavia shrugged, "and clearly neither do you, but wouldn't it be awesome to find out?"


	7. Chapter 7

A relaxing ocean breeze blew over the vast expanse of the shore, disturbing grains of sand and the leaves of palm trees nestled close to the giant buildings erected on the cusp of the coastline. Standing tall and imperious, the hotels were unmoved by the ballad of the romancing east wind, impassive and unresponsive to the repeated calls of the courting breeze.

Overhead the sky was clear, a robin's egg blue; the sun had risen hours ago, shining bright and regal over the ocean vista, her hands reaching out into homes and shops with her longing fingers.

The sun's beams warmed the exposed skin of Clarke's back as she lay, drowsy and lucid. As she opened her eyes, she was greeted with a view that could not be bought. Her fingers played with the wild brown hair, her lips brushing lightly over her now-wife's naked back. The body next to her shifted slightly, and she continued her assault. Even after two days spent exploring Lexa's body, she still could not get enough.

Her lips ghosted over the other woman's shoulder blade, laying claim to the powerful being whose strength was coiled within this lean-muscled body. The fingers that had toyed with the curly brown locks on the pillow dragged downwards, brushing across a toned back and the ridges of the other woman's spine. The nimble fingers went over a certain ridge that had Clarke's eyes drifting to the marks on Lexa's back, a brief moment of hesitation sensed by the other woman even as she rested.

"You okay?" Lexa asked, her voice sleep-addled. Her green eyes blinked away the harsh gleam of the sun as it streamed through the open windows, swiveling her head over her shoulder to meet the gaze of her lover.

"I'm fine." Clarke assured her, and to prove it, the blonde shifted down to the marks, kissed and soothed it as she reacquainted herself with their existence. Lexa released a long, content sigh at the feel of her wife's lips and lowered her head onto the pillow, her eyes closing as Clarke continued to lavish attention to the exposed parts of her back.

The sheets covering what little was left to imagination were nudged away with eager hands, and then Clarke moved lower, her fingers moving to briefly graze Lexa's inner thigh teasingly. The brunette hummed lowly at her wife's antics, a smirk hidden in the soft cover of the pillows.

"This must be a dream." Lexa's words were muffled, and Clarke smiled into the brunette's soft skin.

"Which part?" Clarke asked as she nuzzled into the warm skin at Lexa's lower back.

"It's now late morning, I didn't have to get up at 5am to get stuck in traffic for hours, and I can smell the warm breeze of the Caribbean Sea wafting in through the windows." Lexa murmured as she stretched out her hands from under her head, and she felt a soft hand at her hip.

She was pushed onto her back, and the blonde was hovering over her face, an affectionate gleam in her eyes. "That's all?" She asked, her arms holding her upright, their naked bodies barely touching, "Sleeping in and the weather?" Clarke raised one eyebrow at her, challenging and playful, and Lexa responded with arms that pulled the blonde closer, relishing in the skin-on-skin sensation.

Lexa wrapped both arms around Clarke, their chests pressed tightly together as she connected their lips. The kiss was long and languid, and so Clarke was reasonably distracted when Lexa suddenly rolled them over, reversing their positions. Hesitation was a thing long in the past, Lexa's lips latching onto Clarke's neck and collarbone, her heart rate beating fast in anticipation, each ministration driving her crazy with want.

"Lexa, please." She whispered into the air, her hips rolling up to meet the other woman's, and Lexa made her way back to the blonde's face, directing to her a tender gaze. One hand moved low, trailing down the valley between her breasts and a taut stomach. Her touch set Clarke's body on fire, and the blonde bit her lip as she took her time, slowly positioning her lips to a perk nipple, teasing her with a smug look of satisfaction on her face.

Clarke moaned as Lexa's fingers dipped and stroked at the wetness gathered down there, coming close but pulling away just before she entered her. The blonde was panting heavily, and she wanted to groan in frustration. She rolled her hips desperately up to Lexa's elusive fingers, a hand reaching out to pull the brunette closer to her. "Please, Lexa." She repeated, and Lexa complied.

She entered her with two fingers, pumping slowly. Clarke released a moan of satisfaction as Lexa moved with at a torturously speed, and her hips bucked up in an attempt to get more. Lexa lavished attention to her neck, leaving a trail of wet-hot kisses there as her fingers began to pick up speed, curling as they went.

Clarke felt her walls tightening, and she wrapped her arms tight around Lexa's waist. "Lex, I need more." She gasped breathlessly, and the brunette added a third finger, her hips now rolling with the movement. One hand at the side of Clarke's head kept her upright, and she watched with reverence when the blonde moaned her release into the humid air between them.

Clarke's spine arched up from the mattress, her breasts pressing tightly against Lexa, her eyes closed as she came. She collapsed against the bed, and when her eyes opened, she met Lexa's affectionate gaze. That gaze was reserved only for her, those green eyes glistening with tenderness and love. "This, this could never be a dream." Lexa whispered as she kissed the blonde's shoulder tenderly.

"Why?" Clarke asked as she breathed heavily.

"Because no dream can be this perfect." Lexa kissed Clarke's forehead. "Even dreams couldn't be this absurd, for me to have finally married the love of my life." Lexa murmured, pulling her close. "You are my reality."

 

\----

 

"I had no idea you and Mom eloped." Quinn commented through a mouth full of pancake. Anya frowned at her niece from the other side of the booth.

"Oh they so did, and it was heart-breaking for me." Octavia quipped, which only made Lincoln tap her gently on the side of the head in a censoring manner while Anya ignored the couple in favor of teasing her niece.

"Wow, just go ahead and spray me with your food." Anya complained good-naturedly as she directed her dark brown eyes to Clarke. "Didn't you ever teach your daughter not to talk while she's chewing?"

"Yes, I did." Clarke said lazily through sips of her coffee. "But she's an adult now, so if she wants to spray her aunt with pancake, she is at full liberty to do so."

Quinn sent Anya a victorious grin, which only made the older woman roll her eyes and reach for her coffee. Raven, who was sitting next to Quinn, gave her a high five, and for the next few seconds Clarke saw only the whites of Anya's eyes.

"Your mother and I hadn't planned on eloping." Clarke said after the other three had settled. Her blue eyes were lit with joy. "It was more of a," She searched for the right word, "spur of the moment situation."

"Yea, and wow was I pissed." Anya grunted, nudging the blonde with her elbow. "I was supposed to be Lexa's best woman."

"True, but you were pretty nervous in the months leading up to the actual wedding date."

"Why were you nervous?" Quinn's eyebrows rose high in her forehead, clearly unable to reconcile the tough-as-nails, badass aunt that she knew with this new image.

"Because of the speech she would have had to do." Clarke supplied the information with a teasing grin, and Anya rolled her eyes so dramatically, Clarke was concerned that they would never come back down.

"Just had to bring that up." Anya grunted, though she could not contain the wry smile on her face.

"Then why did you two elope?" Quinn asked, still wearing a confused expression on her face as her green eyes swiveled from either woman in front of her.

Clarke smiled affectionately as she looked into those eyes, and had to shake herself back into reality to answer her daughter. "All the wedding planning was getting the best of us." She explained simply. "It was exceedingly stressful, what with my mother's wishes and requirements, coupled with your aunts Raven and Octavia's crazy antics." Clarke took another sip of her coffee amid protesting squawks from the two women.

"Excuse you, we had great ideas, especially for your respective bachelorette parties." Raven argued.

"Ugh, now that was a headache in and of itself." Anya interjected as she finished her glass of water. "You kept asking me if my sister would like to have strippers at the event."

"What?" Quinn's eyes widened, and Lincoln immediately dove into the conversation.

"She's obviously just joking!" He said quickly.

"She so wasn't!" Raven cackled. "And it would have happened too, if you two hadn't just disappeared for two weeks and then came back sporting matching bands and a tan." Quinn laughed, and Clarke smiled at the sound.

"Okay, now I'm starting to think you and Mom made the right decision." Quinn said, and Clarke grinned.

"It was quite the harrowing few months." Lincoln commented casually, "I was losing my mind just having to listen to Octavia and Raven go on and on about how they wanted to 'spice up' the parties." He used his hands to air quote.

"Not to mention the guest list that just kept getting bigger and bigger." Clarke shook her head. "Lexa just suggested to me one night that we just drive down to Vegas, and the rest was history."

"Leaving me high and dry." Anya added sardonically, which only made Clarke's grin widen.

"Well, all we wanted was an intimate ceremony." Clarke defended her wife. "And that is what we got." She added with a winning smile.

"Intimate, translated to: no one but you and her." Raven grunted. "And such a shame, I was looking forward to a wedding in a vineyard."

"Only because you wanted lots of high-quality wine free of charge." Clarke shook her head in mock-disappointment.

"Yea well, you know us," Octavia raised her glass of water. "Couple of freeloaders." She stated proudly before she downed the clear liquid in a gulp.

"But it was so worth it." Clarke sighed. "And that honeymoon in Saint Lucia was a dream come true." Octavia made a farting noise, and this time it was Lincoln that rolled his eyes.

"I for one, think you guys dodged a bullet." He said. "Our wedding was quite the fiasco." He gave Octavia a knowing look, and she shrugged.

"Hey, I've got killer dance moves, get over it." She shot back playfully, which made Lincoln smile and Raven fake gag.

"They're children, I'm eating out with children." Anya muttered under her breath. Clarke gave her a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.

"If it makes you feel better, your sister didn't handle them any better than you can." Clarke commented. "Add my mother into the mix, and suddenly the reasons why she suggested we elope made so much more sense."

 

\----

 

"I'll let her know, call you back tomorrow?" Lexa rolled her eyes. She had her phone wedged between her shoulder and ear as she struggled out of her jacket, one hand fiddling with the keys as she attempted to unlock the door. "Great, bye." She was more than happy to end the call. She had been talking with the wedding singer for almost the entirety of the drive home, and as she stepped into the threshold of the two-story apartment, she longed to pour herself a glass of whiskey.

"Lex, is that you?" Clarke's voice echoed off the walls as she called from the bedroom upstairs. Even from a distance, Lexa heard the tinge of annoyance and exasperation in her voice.

"Yes honey. Who else could it be?" Lexa joked lightly as she hung up her coat, tossing her keys into the ceramic bowl. She wriggled out of her shoes, letting her hair down with a sigh of relief before she trudged up the steps.

Her fiancée was sitting on the bedroom floor, a pile of loose-leaf pages scattered in front of her. Clarke looked absolutely frustrated, her hair a wild tangle of golden strands carelessly tied up in a messy bun atop her head. On the blonde's left hand, the diamond on the ring sparkled excitably in the lazy evening sun that filtered through the windows, and Lexa smiled, taking it all in as she leaned against the doorway. She looked beautiful.

"What are you smiling at?" Clarke looked up at Lexa, her brow furrowed at her fiancée unmoving figure.

"You." Lexa said simply before she crossed the room, stepping up behind her before she settled down with her chest pressing against Clarke's back, her arms enfolding the blonde in an affectionate embrace. "You're beautiful, you know that?" She mumbled into the woman's shoulder. Lexa stretched her legs out on either side of the blonde, and Clarke rested one hand on her jeans-covered knee.

"You reminding me every day certainly helps." Clarke joked, turning her head to kiss Lexa tenderly on the brow. She returned her attention to the pages she had in her hands, sorting through them with a huff.

"Wedding details?" Lexa asked, and when Clarke hummed in affirmation, the brunette kissed the patch of exposed skin on her neck before she rested her chin on the blonde's shoulder.

"All this planning is making my head explode." Clarke complained, exhaling loudly. "You know I found a grey hair this morning?" That made Lexa chuckle, the laugh humming deep in her chest.

"That's impossible, you've got nothing but golden locks." Lexa hummed. "But if it's true, don't worry I'll still marry you."

"Jerk." Clarke elbowed Lexa lightly in the ribs, which only exacerbated the laugh that vibrated in the brunette's throat. She lifted two different swatches for Lexa to see. "Which one do you prefer?"

Lexa peered at both, her eyes narrowing. "Aren't they both white?" She asked in confusion.

"No, this one is a pearl white," Clarke nodded towards the swatch in her right hand, "and this one is daisy."

"Oh my god." Lexa buried her face into Clarke's neck, inhaling the smell of sweat and vanilla body wash. "They look the same to me, babe."

"You're no help at all." Clarke complained, letting both pieces of fabric fall to the ground. "The wedding is in two weeks and five days, Lex, and we don't even have a color for the table cloths yet."

Lexa released a low groan into Clarke's skin. "All this trouble just to see two people sign a piece of paper, and in front of a hundred people." She muttered.

"Actually, the guest list is around two hundred now." Clarke interjected, which elicited another groan from Lexa.

"What?"

"My mom strong-armed me into letting her invite the whole neighborhood."

"She hasn't even met me, and yet she wants all these people that I don't even know – not to mention herself – to come?" Lexa complained.

"See that's why I told you it wasn't a good idea to send her the invitation." Clarke sighed, and the brunette just mumbled incoherently, and Clarke added. "By the way, Raven said she asked your sister about what kind of strippers you'd like."

"No. Strippers." Lexa growled, and Clarke laughed at the brunette's exasperated tone.

"Guess you should call Raven and straighten this thing out." Clarke said. "Maybe set out some ground rules, though she might break them anyway." She added.

She earned a low growl of annoyance from the brunette. "This isn't worth all the trouble, and the grey hair." Lexa grunted.

Clarke tensed, her spine stiffened. Lexa hadn't uttered another word, and in the silence, Clarke said: "Are you regretting all this?" She asked quietly.

"What?" Lexa jerked her head up, and Clarke refused to meet her eye.

"Do you not want to get married?" Clarke clarified, and Lexa frowned.

"Of course not." Lexa exclaimed. When the blonde still refused to look her way, Lexa pushed up off the floor. She scattered the paper lying in front of Clarke's crossed legs, and sat before her with a serious gaze. "Clarke, I still want to marry you." She frowned slightly as she considered the best way to articulate the nagging at the back of her mind. "I just think, maybe there's any easier way to go about this."

"Like what?" Blue eyes met green, and Lexa smiled.

"Let's elope." She suggested, a wild, spontaneous grin on her face.

"What?" Clarke looked at her with surprise, her eyebrows raised so high that Lexa feared that they were in danger of disappearing into the crown of her hair.

"Let's elope." Lexa repeated, before she pulled Clarke to her feet. "You been tearing your hair out in frustration for months, I've been thinking of driving a screwdriver up my temple, all this wedding planning is making us crazy."

"Yes." Clarke intoned as she listened. Lexa could tell she was still unconvinced.

"So let's get married tonight, just the two of us. No crazy friends, no overbearing family members, just you and me, and a minister of course." Lexa proposed. Clarke creased her brow in thought, meeting Lexa's excited gaze.

"Tonight?" She finally asked, and Lexa's smile increased.

"Tonight." Lexa confirmed. "And we can honeymoon, I'll call the captain and let her know I'm taking my vacation early, you've just finished the commission for city hall, timing's perfect." She fell silent as Clarke's eyes clouded in thought. "So what do you think?" Lexa asked tentatively.

The blonde quirked her lips, an index finger tapping her chin in deliberation. Finally, she met Lexa's excited gaze and nodded, her blue eyes shining with eagerness and determination. "Let's do it."

 

\----

 

She sat in the studio, each brush stroke finding a shape in the canvas. She was lost in thought today, her eyes unfocused as she worked. Despite her desire to distract herself by working, she could not paint away the memories that plagued her mind.

Clarke heard footsteps at the doorway, and she did not bother turning her head, knowing who it was already.

"Making any headway with that?"

"Nope." Clarke said bitterly, and Raven quirked the side of her lip sympathetically. She took the stool sitting by the work table and brought it up next to the blonde and her canvas.

"Hey there blondie, whatcha thinking?" Raven rapped her knuckles gently against the side of Clarke's head, which elicited a grunt of mild irritation.

"Nothing." She grunted, pressing the brush to the canvas.

"Nothing?" Raven prodded, poking Clarke in the side, and Clarke retaliated by swatting the offending finger away with her unoccupied hand.

"Nothing." She repeated as she busied herself with the paint. Raven allowed her to dwell in the false preconception for heartbeats before she opened her mouth again.

"Then why are you painting a pile of shit onto a canvas?"

"You always have the nicest things to say." Clarke muttered dryly. She finally abandoned the brush, setting it down on the table.

"You know me." Raven winked at her, before her face took on a more serious expression. "Come on Griffin, what's on your mind?" Clarke sighed, shutting her eyes momentarily.

"Lexa." She mumbled through her fingers.

"Okay, no surprise there." Raven grinned.

"I don't even know why I answer you." Clarke complained, running a hand through the tangles in her hair. Raven laughed loudly, and then when she had caught her breath, she asked.

"So what did lover-girl write today in your letter?"

"It's not what she wrote." Clarke said reluctantly. She stood from her stool and padded over to the work table, handing the object in question to Raven.

The brunette grasped it in her delicate fingers and examined it with curiosity. "Is this you two on the Empire State Building?"

"Our first day out in the Big Apple." Clarke nodded. She hugged her arms tightly around her chest.

"That's cute." Raven commented as she looked at the photograph. "You guys looked so happy."

And they did. It had been at Clarke's insistence that they take a photo on top of the Empire State, despite Lexa' grumble about how cliché it was, and as Clarke snapped the lens, she had kissed an indulgent Lexa on the cheek, causing a wide, doe-eyed grin to take place across her features.

"What love sick puppies." Raven chuckled. "Lexa was so whipped." She turned the photo around, and her experienced eyes caught sight of something. "Hey blondie, do you know that this folds out?"

"What?" Clarke walked over, taking the photo that Raven returned to her, pointing to the fold in the back of the photograph. With an anticipatory hum in the air, Clarke opened it, and a small note was written on the back. She laughed, a sigh tumbling through her lips.

"What does it say?" Raven asked.

"'I love your silliness, and even though I threaten to divorce you every time you break out those weird dance moves, you've got me hooked for life.'" Clarke read it aloud, grinning as her tongue twisted the words in her mouth. "She's such a sap."

 

\----

 

Lexa had gone through the eighth box of the evening, and currently busy assembling her desk, a screwdriver in one hand and a screw in the other. Outside the safety of the new apartment, taxis bustled through the streets loudly. They had chosen to move into the busier side of downtown Manhattan, as it would be closer to both their workplaces. Of course, such an economical choice resulted in the sacrifice of peace and quiet, something that they definitely would not have. The hustle and bustle of the Big Apple was like a hornet's nest.

They had taken the red-eye from Seattle to New York the day before, and Lexa was currently functioning only due to the multiple cups of coffee that had been drained to the mug, and her experience pulling all-nighters all for the sake of her job.

Despite the pain and the bloodshot eyes though, the apartment was really starting to feel like home. Her limbs felt tired, her mental state groggy as she screwed in the last nail. With a grunt of effort, she stood and righted the desk onto its four legs.

"That looks great!" Clarke sidled up behind her, her hands encircling her waist as she kissed her cheek in barely concealed delight and excitement.

"How are you still so energetic?" Lexa complained as she leaned back against her wife. Clarke laughed, a finger pushing a wild strand of flyaway hair from Lexa's face.

"I unpacked the last box!" Clarke reported with elation as she pressed her cheek against Lexa's shoulder. "We're officially moved in!"

"Great." Lexa sighed in an attempt to sound excited, though the tired lilt of her tone stated otherwise.

"Oh Lex, you tired little baby." Clarke teased her as she squeezed her tighter against her body. "We're married, we have a decent place in New York, you've made Major Crimes, celebrate a little!" She practically bouncing off the walls in excitement, and Lexa smiled blearily.

"You do present some pretty valid points." Lexa agreed wearily, closing her eyes as she allowed her wife to sway them back and forth. She almost fell asleep right there, but then the warm body behind her disappeared, and she opened her eyes in protest, only to see the most bizarre and endearing thing she'd ever seen.

Clarke had released her in favor of dancing about the room, her arms waving wildly – in Lexa's opinion, dangerously – as she shimmied across the hardwood floors in her socks. Lexa shook her head, a long-suffering sigh leaving her lips, holding back the grin.

"What are you doing honey?" She asked, her hands on her hips.

"I'm celebrating!" Clarke exclaimed with a particularly energetic flail of her arms. She was basically wind-milling about, her legs moving in a sort of tap-dancing, moonwalking fusion. "Come celebrate with me!" She invited her, fluttering her eyelashes in a sultry manner that only made Lexa laugh out loud by the audacity of the display.

"No thanks, I don't dance, and apparently neither do you." Lexa quipped as she watched her wife's dancing just get more ridiculous by the second.

"You're just a party pooper." Clarke laughed, and she flipped her off playfully. Lexa shook her head before she caught up with her, lifting her up from the floor and into her arms.

"You really want to flip me off right now?" Lexa asked her as she held her still, her nose nudging Clarke's in the proximity of their bodies.

"Is it working?" Clarke asked, batting her eyelashes again, and Lexa laughed.

"Maybe, I'm too tired to figure out if I'm turned on by your weird-ass dance moves, or if it's a sign that I should divorce you." She rested her forehead against Clarke's, lightly kissing her on the nose.

"You talk a big game, Detective, but we both know you're hooked for life." Clarke joked, wrapping her arms around Lexa's neck to pull their lips together. When they pulled away for air, Lexa had a goofy smile on her face, and when Clarke raised any eyebrow she said: "You mean I've been slapped with the best life sentence?"

"Wow, maybe you should go take a nap." Clarke shook her head, unable to fight the smile on her face. "We can leave the strip search," She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, "to another day."

"Nope, I am totally fine." Without warning, Lexa lifted Clarke over her shoulder and carried her off to the bedroom amid the blonde's yelp of surprise.

They had spent the night rediscovering each other's bodies. Lexa made Clarke's body tense and shudder repeatedly under a well-versed touch and worshipping lips. She made her gasp and moan well into the morning, and under the light of the sun rising high into the air, Lexa could feel her heart overflowing with love and adoration for this woman. Her wife.


	8. Chapter 8

She moved through the aisles of painting equipment, her eyes scanning for the right shades of blue. She wanted to choose a new color for the living room walls. A new color, a fresh coat of paint would hopefully freshen up the space.

When she got to the cashier, paint cans in both hands, she tried her best to ignore the building across the street. She had specifically chosen the aisle where she could turn her back to it. Out of sight, out of mind, she hoped. The parking situation had been of similar circumstance. It was the venue where Lincoln and Octavia had gotten married. But she couldn't blame it all on chance.

If Clarke were to be honest with herself, it was because of Lexa's ridiculous anniversary gift that she had decided to come to this paint store, and not the one on the other side of town, the one that was closer to their house. But now, standing meters away from the place, she elected to wholly ignore it, and she blinked away the recollections in favor of clenching her jaw and fiddling with the bills in her wallet.

Quinn noticed her discomfort, the set of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders as she accompanied her mother on her quest to find paint. She didn't ask until they had opened the car doors and sat down. "Mom?"

"Hmm?" Clarke acknowledged distractedly as she busied herself with the dials on the radio. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, fiddling with the gold wedding band with twitching fingers.

"Why are you acting so weird?" Quinn looked at her with a quizzical expression. Clarke checked the side-mirrors, avoiding her gaze.

"No I'm not." She lied. She hadn't moved to turn on the ignition, and Quinn, being her mother's daughter, was not one to notice something odd and not take note of it, especially if her mother had been jumpy and exhibiting strange behavior for the entirety that they'd been in the paint store.

"Then why haven't we left yet?" Clarke sighed, and Quinn prodded further. "Mom, does it have something to do with that building you're refusing to look at?"

"I'm not refusing to look at-" Clarke caught herself, before she finished with: "What building?" Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Come on, I'm not blind." Quinn snorted. "The building across the street, is it another place that you and Mom went to?"

The older woman groaned lowly, wishing in the rarer of times that her daughter wasn't so sharp. "Yes sweetie." She finally said. She glanced at the building through the rear-view mirror. "That was where your aunt Octavia and your uncle Lincoln got married." Clarke smiled wryly before she added, "that was also where you became a possibility."

 

\----

 

"Excuse me, coming through." Lexa squeezed through the crowd of people around the bar, two drinks in her hands. Under the dimmed lights, a gaggle of people were dancing closer to the band, playing some cheesy 90s song to the delight of the crowd below.

Lexa found her way back to Clarke, who was sitting at one of the tables off to the side, massaging her feet, high heels abandoned for the rest of the evening. "What took you so long?" Her eyes lit up as the brunette passed her requested drink to her side.

"I had to separate Raven and that guy she brought." Lexa explained as took the seat next to her wife. Her hands now unoccupied, Lexa worked on the straps of her heels, uncomfortable and tired. "She – literally – had her tongue shoved down his throat." She shuddered even as the words left her mouth, but when she was met with silence instead of the atypical laugh from her wife – which she had hoped for with vigor, especially since she had worked in a Parks and Recreation reference – she turned her head to Clarke, who was looking off somewhere in the crowd of dancing people.

"I can't believe they finally got married." Clarke grinned, her eyes fixed dreamily on the couple dancing wildly in the center of the ballroom. Lexa's head swiveled to where Clarke was looking, and she was met with the sight of Lincoln and Octavia, the newly-weds, dancing wildly in the center of the crowd.

"I fear for the safety of the people within a five foot radius to them." Lexa commented dryly as Lincoln dropped low to attempt a handstand, his legs floundering, and Clarke batted her shoulder in admonishment.

"Come on Lex," Clarke settled against her wife's shoulder. "You have to admit that it's endearing." She cooed, and Lexa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she chose to mime gagging, and Clarke giggled reluctantly before she elbowed her wife again, and Lexa grinned, pleased to have squeezed out a laugh from her wife tonight.

"Okay, sure." She agreed, exaggerating the way she drew out the words, smirking. Clarke chuckled once more, and reached out and took Lexa's hand, pulling it into her lap as she rested her chin on her shoulder.

They enjoyed the lull in conversation as the dancing group continued to tear up the floor, and at some point Anya joined them, pulling up a chair. "All the booze is gone." She said in lieu of a greeting.

"Wow, drank the bartender dry already?" Lexa asked mockingly. "It's only been," She glanced at the fancy watch she wore for the occasion, "two hours since the banquet started." She smirked defiantly, and Anya flipped her off casually, tying her hair up into a bun.

"Coming from the woman who was strong-armed into getting that expensive couch the other week? Can you say 'whipped'?" Anya mimed holding a whip, lashing it in the air, a triumphant gleam in her eye. Lexa opened her mouth to retaliate when Clarke interrupted them.

"Lexa," The blonde stood suddenly, surprising the brunette as she pulled her to her feet. She gripped Lexa's arm tightly, and the brunette was about to complain about Clarke's nails biting into her skin when she exclaimed: "It's my favorite song!"

"What?" Lexa strained to listen. It was a slow song, and the other remaining individuals began pairing up, but before she could even comprehend what was going on, Clarke had dragged her onto the dance floor. Lexa glanced back at the table, a silent request for help ignored as Anya simply mimed lashing a whip again in her general direction.

Her arms automatically went around Clarke's waist, the blonde looping her own arms at her neck, pulling her close. Despite her aversion to dancing, Lexa had to admit that the feeling of her wife's body flush against her certainly made the conundrum more bearable. Feeling more at ease with the situation, Lexa dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead.

Clarke sighed in contentment, swaying them side to side. They stayed in that position for several minutes, relishing in the close proximity, in the tenderness of the moment, until Clarke finally broke the silence. "Lex?" The brunette hummed in acknowledgement, and Clarke met her attentive gaze. "I want to start trying again."

"Trying what?" Lexa asked in confusion, and Clarke rolled her eyes.

"Trying to have a baby." Clarke clarified, sounding out each syllable slowly so that she would not have to repeat herself again.

That statement had Lexa stunned for a few heartbeats, blinking in surprise at the blonde. "Lex?" Clarke repeated. "Say something." Her eyes searched the depths of green that had were lost in thought. Clarke shook her by the shoulders, and Lexa snapped into attention.

"Are you sure?" Lexa asked nervously. They had avoided the topic of children for months, not after what had happened earlier in the year. She wanted to be sure, to allow the words to sweep over her, and to truly understand what her wife meant. She didn't want to get her hopes up again, only for them to come crashing down in a compilation of heartache and a broken wife.

"Yes." Clarke's voice was filled with conviction, a determined look on her face. "I know it's only been ten months, but I think I'm ready." Lexa swallowed thickly.

"Are you sure?" Lexa repeated slowly, and Clarke nodded with a glint in her eye that the brunette knew was not caused by the cheesy lighting in the room.

"I'm sure." Lexa could no longer contain the excitement and joy at hearing that confirmation, a smile forming rapidly over her face and reaching her eyes. Without warning, she swept Clarke up into her arms and swung them around in a circle.

"Lex!" Clarke yelped, her arms tightly wound around her neck, her legs hooked around her waist as she spun around and around until finally she stopped. Clarke released her hold on Lexa's waist, standing on her own two feet to meet the delighted gaze of her wife.

"We're going to have a baby!" Lexa crowed in excitement, her eyes shining brightly. Clarke nodded eagerly, allowing herself to be swept up into her wife's exhilarated state. She brought both hands up to cup Lexa's cheeks, holding her in place as she planted a wet, passionate kiss on her lips.

When Clarke finally disconnected their lips, regretful but needing the oxygen nonetheless, she beamed at her enthused wife. "We're going to have a baby." Clarke repeated her wife's words in an unwavering voice, and Lexa caught the meaning laced within the fabric of it.

"We are." Lexa agreed firmly, and she pulled her wife close, holding her tight and shielding her from the world as they swayed gently in time with the music.

 

\----

 

There was a lull in conversation as Clarke finished the story, and Quinn reached over to hold her mother's hand. "I miss Mom." She sighed.

"Me too." Clarke agreed easily. Quinn examined her mother's face, and then opened the car door, beckoning for the older woman to follow suit.

"Come on." Quinn gestured impatiently with her hand, and so her mother followed her daughter up the stairs to the doors of the ballroom.

The inside of the building had not changed at all, Clarke mused as her daughter led her inside. There was a security guard posted at the front desk of the reception area, and Quinn strode over confidently. Clarke walked after her in a slower pace, just catching the end of the conversation.

"…go and see the ballroom?" Quinn asked.

"Go ahead." The guard nodded kindly to her daughter, and then Quinn was dragging her by the wrist down the hallway and through the enormous oak doors. The ballroom was just the same as it was nineteen years ago.

If Clarke closed her eyes she could hear the music that had been playing, the feel of Lexa's sweet kiss on her forehead as she stood in the middle of the dance floor. She cracked a grin as she recalled the eager smile on her wife's face, the indomitable glint in her green eyes when Clarke announced that she wanted to have a baby.

"We had no idea what we were in for." Clarke chuckled to herself.

 

\----

 

It was the middle of the night – or very early in the morning – when Lexa felt a hand push at her shoulder insistently. Her groan was muffled by the pillow, and with bleary eyes, she chanced a look over at the clock on the nightstand. Either she was having a nightmare, or the clock hands were truly pointing out the time to her. Another shove in the middle of her shoulder blades had her burying her face deeper into her pillow. Nightmare, this must be a nightmare. "Lex?" Definitely a nightmare.

Clarke nudged her wife again, her breath tickling the small hairs on Lexa's neck as she shuffled closer to the woman who lay flat on her stomach. "Lexa, are you awake?"

The woman in question mumbled incoherently, her face still hidden in the pillow. Silently, she prayed for a semblance of patience before she finally answered her wife. "What is it?" She asked, her voice low and hoarse from slumber.

"Could you check if I locked the door? I don't remember if I did when I came home after work." The request made Lexa want to swear in all the languages she knew, but the insistent tugging on her shoulder and the swell of her wife's belly at the small of her back had her sitting up slowly.

"Honey, I was the last one home last night." Lexa mumbled sleepily. "I'm pretty sure it's locked."

"Can you double-check? Please?" The note of anxiety in her pregnant wife's voice was what made her finally open her eyes. With a heavy exhale, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, blinking the sleep away from her eyes.

"Okay." Lexa sat there for a few heartbeats, trying not to fall asleep on the spot. She looked over her shoulder to check on Clarke. The woman was resting comfortably on her side, one hand propping her head up as she waited for her wife to do as she'd asked with a grateful smile.

"Thanks, you're awesome." Lexa blinked once more, sighed once more. This was why she was awake at ungodly hours for the past few weeks. She returned the smile between clenched teeth, and then her legs were taking her out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

It had been a tiring six months for both of them; Clarke because she was carrying another human being in her body, and Lexa because her wife had somehow become more and more forgetful as she pregnancy continued. It was as if carrying another living thing inside of her scrambled her brain. Just the other day, Lexa had found the house keys in the freezer. The day before that, she had gone to the laundry room to discover in horror, that a red pair of socks had mingled its way into the whites.

The worst week however, remained as the first night that she'd woken Lexa at three in the morning. She had a trial at eight am, her suit pressed and hanging in preparation. Clarke had been craving pineapple, and so Lexa had found herself running down to the store across the street. She had almost cut off her own finger while she had been preparing it for her wife, and literally thirty minutes after her head had hit the pillow, her alarm had sounded, loud and obnoxious. It had taken five cups of coffee to get her through the day.

She wouldn't have it any other way. She repeated the sentence under her breath as she had fulfilled each and every request that her wife had doled out to her. Anya had chuckled herself silly the other day when she saw her sister, dark bags under her eyes and a slump in her shoulders.

Lexa's fingers contacted the metal of the door knob, checking the deadbolt and the lock. They were both, as she had remembered herself, secured heartbeats after she had closed the door when she'd returned from work. "I love Clarke, I do." She said in a low, grunting growl as she retraced her steps back to the warmth of their bed.

She returned to the bedroom to find Clarke snoring loudly, her mouth open, her body spread-eagled across the majority of the mattress. Lexa closed her eyes, shaking her head in despair. She simply did not have the heart to push her wife out of her way, and neither did she want to deal with an irritable Clarke the next morning – in a few hours. As quietly as she had on her way back, Lexa snuck out to the living room and settled into the sofa, trying not to compare the lumpy surface with the heavenly mattress a few walls down.

When Lexa woke, it was to the smell of bacon and eggs in the frying pan. She opened her eyes, stretching her arms above her head. "Coffee's ready." Clarke's voice was chirpy and energetic. Clearly she had had a restful slumber, which was more than Lexa could say for herself.

She got to her feet, folding the comforter she had used last night and dropping it onto the sofa before she looked over at her wife. Clarke was standing at the stove, wearing nothing but Lexa's white blouse. "Morning." Lexa shuffled tiredly to the other side of the island, her arms encircling the blonde's waist. Her hands gently cradled the bump of her wife's belly, a lazy grin on her face. Clarke pressed her hand against Lexa's.

"She was moving around this morning." Clarke informed her wife with a proud smile. Lexa rested her chin on Clarke's shoulder, leaning against her.

"I don't feel anything now." Lexa said, a twinge of disappointment in her voice. Her hands fell to the blonde's hipbones instead. Clarke chuckled breathily, and removed the pan from the stove before she turned to face her exhausted wife.

"Be a little more patient." She chided her light-heartedly as she returned Lexa's hands to their previous position. "Just wait." She felt the baby moving around in there, and she watched her wife's face.

"Oh my god." Lexa breathed. She felt it, felt the kick. She knelt down, her face an amalgamation of affection and wonder. She was looking at their unborn child with that same gaze that was reserved only for Clarke. Lexa pressed a tender kiss to the bump over the thin material of the shirt. "Hey little girl." She whispered, and in the early morning light, Lexa promised the sun, the sky, and the stars.

 

\----

 

"Aunt Octavia said she made it to Manhattan ten hours after you went into labor, and when she got to the hospital, you still hadn't finished yet." Quinn's voice echoed around the empty expanse of the ballroom.

"Well you forget that your aunt has quite the disposition for hyperbole." Clarke shook her head. The birth had taken quite the while though. Her water broke sometime in the afternoon, while she had been cleaning out the fridge. She was home alone at that hour, and she had almost slipped on her way to the counter to grab her phone. "Your mother was still at work."

"So I assume she rushed home right away?" Quinn asked as she padded over to Clarke's side.

"No, that is the incorrect assumption." Clarke chortled. "Her cell was dead, and when I tried to call the station, they said she was out handling a hostage situation at one of the banks across town in Brooklyn." She laughed now, but Clarke did not forget her panic at the time, and her annoyance that in her moment of need, Lexa had been unreachable.

Quinn let out an impressive whistle. "Wow, Mom was a bad-ass."

"That she was." Clarke agreed. "But the job always took up too much of her time."

"Then how did you reach her?" Quinn asked. "Because I recall her always telling me how you fractured her hand during the birth." Clarke rolled her eyes.

"Okay, first of all, I didn't 'break'-"

"'Fracture'" Quinn corrected her midsentence, and Clarke swatted her on the shoulder for retribution.

"Fine, I did not fracture her hand, despite what she told you." Clarke started. "And I called her old partner from Vice squad and told him what was happening." She chuckled. "And even though I really thought that I had a handle on the pain at the time, Lexa told me later that he thought his ears would go deaf."

"You were screaming at him?" Quinn raised both eyebrows.

"Unintentionally, but yes." Clarke confirmed. "He drove down to Brooklyn and pulled her out of there. She made it to the hospital just in time for when the real fun began."

"By fun you mean torture." Quinn muttered under her breath, and Clarke elbowed her daughter.

"Childbirth is a wonderful experience that I actually don't regret at all."

"Really? Because I remember Mom telling me different."

 

\----

 

"I really, really hate you right now!" Clarke's grip on Lexa's hand was bone-crushing, and she had to clench her teeth to resist the urge to groan in pain. Her wife's face was sweat sheened, her hair plastered to her scalp.

"I know babe, but let's not focus on that right now. Focus your energy on the task at hand." Lexa said in a pacifying manner, and Clarke shot her a glare between narrowed eyes. The other woman was still wearing her holstered weapon on her hip, her badge hanging on her neck and resting against the bulletproof vest strapped to her chest, the letters 'NYPD' printed clearly in white on the front. Her ponytail, typically neat and tidy, was messy and wild, but Clarke would rather trade that look for her own physical state right now.

"You're not the one who's got a tear down her-"

"Almost there, a just a few more pushes!" The resident interrupted the conversation from her position between Clarke's legs, preparing to catch the infant. Lexa swept away some of the sweat gathered on Clarke's skin with a damp towel.

"You're very close honey." Lexa encouraged her, and Clarke groaned, steeling herself to push once more. Her face was red, the veins in her neck bulging with effort. Lexa wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to use her hand again.

A shrill cry filled the air, and Lexa's eyes widened at the baby that was quickly tended to by the nurses. Then the child was placed into Clarke's arms. The blonde held the newborn tightly to her chest, a worn smile plastered on her lips as she gazed into shockingly green eyes that blinked wildly, taking in her surroundings for the very first time. Lexa hovered by the side of the bed, watching as her wife interacted with their baby. Clarke tickled the infant under her chin with a tender smile, and Lexa leaned down to press a proud kiss on first her wife's forehead, before directing her attention to the newest addition to their family. The babe blinked at Lexa, her mouth open in wonder as she looked into the face of her other mother for the first time.

Clarke had tears at the corners of her eyes, and Lexa swept down to kiss them away. "I'm so proud of you." She murmured against her skin. "Look at what we've made." She said with wonder, and Clarke tilted her chin to capture her wife's lips in hers.

"This is our baby." Clarke said with a giant smile. "Our little Quinn."

"Wait a minute." Lexa raised one eyebrow, as she looked at her wife. "What happened to agreeing to name her Buttercup?"

"Lexa, when did I agree to name her Buttercup?" Clarke's eyes barely left her child's face as she cooed to her newborn daughter.

"When we were," Lexa paused, remembering that there were other people in the room, cleaning up. She moved closer to Clarke's ear, "having sex a few weeks ago." When Clarke just looked at her in confusion, Lexa elaborated, her face partially flushed. "When I got you off so well you said that you'd never had such a great org-"

"Okay! Now I remember." Clarke said hastily, her cheeks turning a shade of red. "And absolutely not, look at her, she's definitely a Quinn, and definitely not a Buttercup." Clarke returned her gaze to their daughter.

"But-" Lexa began to protest, but Clarke stopped her before she could debate the name for any longer.

"Lexa I love you, but I am not naming our daughter after a movie character."

"Not just 'a movie', the Princess Bride!" Lexa groaned, and Clarke rolled her eyes. "Come on, you love that movie as much as I do." Clarke sighed loudly in exasperation, before an idea sprang to Lexa's mind.

"Okay how about we keep the name Quinn, but I get to choose the middle name?" She suggested.

"Lex, I swear to God if you say-"

"Robin." Lexa announced. She said the name with a triumphant gleam in her eye. "Quinn Robin Griffin-Woods." Clarke's mouth had opened in preparation to contest the suggestion, but at the sound of her daughter's name whispered through her wife's lips, she found herself without objection.

"That sounds wonderful." Clarke admitted begrudgingly, and Lexa gave her a shit-eating grin.

 

\----

 

"I was named after Robin Wright?" Quinn asked, incredulous. Clarke rubbed her on the shoulder with a goofy smile.

"Yup, you had no chance kid. You were destined to be a nerd, just like your mom." Clarke joked. "If it's any consolation though, I had no idea that was the actress's name. I didn't know until Anya dropped by the hospital and high-fived your mother."

When Quinn gave her a quizzical look, Clarke explained. "Anya and Lexa had a bet that I would never let you be named anything remotely related to The Princess Bride."

"That's so Mom." Quinn smirked. "What did she win?"

"20 crisp dollar bills." Clarke shook her head.

"That's...anticlimactic." Quinn snorted, and her mother chuckled too.

"It was the bragging rights more than anything else that they competed over." Clarke explained. "And those twenty dollars came to good use. Your mother used it to buy your first stuffed toy."

 

\----

 

It was after Clarke had fallen asleep, snoring lightly, when Lexa sat on the hospital chair with Quinn cradled against her chest. She held the newborn gently in her arms, cautious about hugging her too tightly. Her child blinked up at her, her eyes so familiar and warm. She was a wonderful, delicate creature, and she stole Lexa's breath away with her perfection.

"Hello baby." Lexa whispered. "You mother's sleeping, and it's night-time. It's just the two of us." She chuckled lightly. "You're even more adorable than I could have ever imagined." She confessed to her, an index finger running soothingly over her daughter's cheek. A small hand reached up from the fuzzy yellow blanket, wrapping around her mother's finger. Lexa chuckled at the astonishingly strong grip, moving her hand gently to mimic a hand-shake.

Her daughter cooed, her little mouth forming an oval shape, and Lexa had to blink away the tears of happiness that threatened to fall. "Want me to let you in on a little secret?" She asked "You are best thing that's ever happened to me." She said softly. "Besides your mother of course." Lexa added sheepishly, before she continued her speech. "It is my duty to protect you and to watch over you, and I will always be with you for as long as I live."

Little Quinn gurgled happily as she grinned up at Lexa, not understanding the weight of the words but smiling all the same. Lexa rocked her gently in her arms, feeling content and whole.


	9. Chapter 9

The door was shut with finality when the family returned home. Lexa was last up the stairs and through the threshold. Blue was already eagerly greeting Clarke and Quinn at the door, yipping loudly, the tail-wagging directed mostly at her girl. Quinn showered the dog with attention with her free hand, the other in a sling. Even from the other side of the hallway, Lexa could see the bright neon orange cast, and she leaned against the doorway, steeling herself for the conversation she most definitely would be having with her quietly fuming wife.

While Quinn went off to take a shower, her plastic bag over the cast, Clarke prepared dinner in silence, largely ignoring Lexa's attempts to engage her in conversation. The brunette sat at the kitchen table, swirling her scotch around and around in the glass. She had resigned herself to the cold-shoulder treatment at this point, and so she sipped the alcohol uneasily.

Dinner was a subdued affair, and Quinn kept her eyes downcast, sharing guilty looks with Lexa across the table. Blue seemed to detect the tension in the room, and she lay down on the rug, quietly watching her humans with inquisitive eyes.

The longer Lexa sat there chewing, the more convinced she was that if looks could kill, she would have been dead the second Clarke's eyes had met hers in the ER this afternoon. In her head, Lexa debated how many days she'd be spending on the couch.

"Can I be excused?" Quinn asked quietly. Lexa looked over, and noting that her plate was wiped clean, she turned to Clarke, and when the blonde nodded curtly, Quinn shot up from her seat.

"Don't think we won't be discussing this later." Clarke called towards Quinn's retreating back, and that only made the girl's footsteps hasten, Blue hot on her heels.

The two women sat, finishing their meal in silence. After she had swallowed the last bite, Lexa squirmed in her seat, standing abruptly. "I'll clean up." She suggested. When her wife offered no contradictory statement, she set to work on washing the dishes and packing away the leftovers in containers in the fridge.

It wasn't until she had finished up and had wiped the surface of the dining table with a damp cloth that the dam finally burst forth, drowning Lexa under its intensity.

"I'm furious with you." Her voice had been so hushed as she sat on the recliner in the living room that Lexa had almost missed it. She swallowed nervously, her throat bobbing.

"Now Clarke, I know it might look pretty bad right now-" She began, but then the blonde chuckled humorlessly, and Lexa silenced herself.

"Stop talking Lexa Woods, and you listen to me." Clarke stood and marched over to Lexa, poking her hard in the chest. "You maimed our daughter!" She hissed furiously.

"Maimed?" Lexa exclaimed. "That's a little exaggerated Clarke." She protested. "It was an accident, people fall off motorcycles all the time when they're starting up."

"She shouldn't be 'starting up' at all!" Clarke snapped, using air quotes as she spoke. "You shouldn't have brought her out there." The woman stalked away from Lexa, moving to the other side of the sofa, bending down to pile scattered magazines neatly on the coffee table. "I only barely tolerate your idiotic attempts to throw yourself off cliffs and ride crotch-rockets of death, but this is not something that I will allow my daughter to do."

"She's our daughter." Lexa retorted coldly. "And she had fun, Clarke."

"Really?" Clarke challenged as she stood to her full height again, her blue eyes filled with rage. "Did she actually tell you that, or did you just make an assumption?"

"Oh my god," Lexa ran her hands over her head in irritation, "not this again."

"Yes, this again." Clarke shot back. "She only participates in your stupid ideas because she wants to please you."

"I don't know why we're still talking about this." Lexa huffed in frustration. She stood in the middle of the living room with her hands on her hips defiantly as she stared her wife down.

"We're still talking about this because it's true!" Clarke snapped. She glared at Lexa, her blue eyes dark with anger. "She's always going off on ridiculous adventures with you, hoping to make you proud, and now look at her!"

"What?" Lexa's eyes were wide in astonishment. "You're blaming Quinn's broken arm on me?" Her voice was filled with a mixture of fury and bewilderment.

"Who else is there to blame?" Clarke replied angrily. "You brought her off-roading! On dirt bikes!" She threw her hands in the air in annoyance. "She's just a kid, you can't take her out on your ridiculous adrenaline-infused hobbies."

"She's eighteen!" Lexa retorted. "It was an accident Clarke, and I did much worse when I was her age." She crossed her arms.

"And look how you turned out!" The other woman snarled, pacing back and forth in the living room.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lexa asked quietly, her eyes following the irate lioness stalking across the hardwood floor towards her.

"It means that she chose you!" She sounded bitter and heartbroken, and Lexa flinched at the way Clarke's voice cracked. Her wife's cheeks were wet, blue eyes blinking away furiously at the tears pooling there.

"Clarke," Lexa stepped around the coffee table in an attempt to move closer to her distraught wife. She reached out, wanting to hold her, but the blonde jerked away from her.

"Out of the two of us Lex, she decided she wants to be a cop." Clarke confessed quietly. "She chose you, Lex." Lexa's eyes widened, the revelation shocking and confusing her with the sudden surge of pride and worry as she watched her wife slowly unravel before her.The fight had left her eyes, her gaze downcast and her posture concaved as she stood solitary, unwilling to be touched.

Lexa stood unsure – for the first time in twenty-two years of marriage – on how to handle her wife. Clarke buried her face in her hands, trying to get a handle the sudden influx of emotions. Wordlessly, Lexa walked forward until they only stood inches apart, and resisted the urge to initiate any contact.

"Clarke, she never told me." She said quietly. She watched her wife fall apart before her, and Lexa cautiously reached for her. This time Clarke did not shrug away, and instead she collapsed into her chest. She rested her chin on top of the shorter woman's head, her arms pulling her tightly to her.

"I feel horrible for thinking like this," Clarke admitted in a watery gasp. "I just don't want her to get hurt, not the way you've been." At her wife's admission, Lexa slowly readjusted her head so that she could look into the eyes of her wife.

"We can't protect her forever." Lexa said softly. "We can try our best, burn ourselves out keeping the dangers away, but no matter how hard we work to do that, someday she'll be in this world without us." She wiped a stray tear from Clarke's cheek with a gentle touch of her hand, lingering on the soft skin there.

"But why?" Clarke asked disparagingly. "Why of all careers, does she want to emulate yours?"

"She's young." Lexa said calmly. "She could change her mind in a few years, or after she finishes college." Her lips grazed Clarke's forehead. "You'll worry yourself silly if you keep thinking this way."

"I know." Clarke acknowledged, her arms around Lexa's neck as she hold her close. "I just want her to be happy."

"Then let her be." Lexa advised. "She'll make up her mind later, don't fret about something you can't change."

"Why can't she chose to be a doctor or an artist, like me?" Clarke asked quietly, and the question made Lexa chuckle bodily.

"Are you kidding? An artist?" Lexa laughed again as she held her wife. "She hardly has the patience to create the way you do." She chuckled at the thought. "But a doctor, now that," Lexa paused as she imagined it, "that is a possibility. I could retire sooner if she makes the big bucks." She sighed dreamily, and Clarke hid her smile in the junction between Lexa's neck and jaw.

"Well she has your stubbornness and your pride on that front." Clarke joked wearily, and she felt Lexa's grin against the skin of her shoulder.

"No Clarke," Lexa pressed their foreheads together, a smile grazing her lips and a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Her stubbornness was gained from you, not me." When Clarke opened her mouth to protest, Lexa kissed her, placating and soft. "The best we can hope for," Lexa said quietly, "is that when either – or both of us – are gone, our daughter can stand on her own two feet."

 

\----

 

"How was your first year at Washington?" Anya asked as she peeled the potatoes at the sink. Quinn, who stood next to her, in charge of cutting the carrots, grinned happily.

"Great! My professors are engaging, and the courses aren't too hard right now." Anya smiled, pleased with her niece's eagerness to learn.

"I couldn't be more proud." Anya sighed in contentment. "My niece the surgeon." She grinned as she affectionately bumped the girl's hip.

"Careful there, I don't to see anyone cutting off their fingers by accident." Clarke reprimanded them as she walked over to them from the office, Lexa's letter folded and in her hand. She took a seat at the kitchen island, giving the two women a curious stare. "What were you talking about?"

"Just this nerd's happiness level at U-Dub." Anya explained, giving her sister-in-law a lopsided smile. "I still can't believe my niece is studying Medicine." She exclaimed. "You're clearly smarter than both of your mothers combined."

"Excuse me?" Clarke raised an eyebrow. "I was studying Medicine too."

"Yea, except you didn't finish." Anya corrected her.

"That's because my passion was with a paint brush, no a scalpel." Clarke groused lowly. "And Lexa was smart too!" She defended her wife, and Anya rolled her eyes.

"Yea, sure she went to law school, but she didn't stay in that field for very long."

"Not because she couldn't do it." Clarke argued. "She felt it wasn't her calling anymore, especially if she was to prosecute potentially innocent people."

"True, true." Anya conceded. She patted Quinn on the shoulder. "I guess you're a real chip off the old block then." Quinn glowed at the words of praise that her aunt directed to her, and from her position, watching the exchange, Clarke could not ignore the pang of unhappiness at the pit of her heart, barring her from being able to fully appreciate the moment. Lexa should be here.

 

\----

 

"Hey, so do you want to know something that I've noticed the past few days?" Lexa's voice filtered in from the bedroom, and Clarke, who was getting ready for bed, called back to her fiancée from the ensuite. She was busy removing her earrings, her fingers moving deftly to complete her nightly ritual.

"What?" Lexa didn't respond, and Clarke was about to poke her head through the door when she saw her in the mirror, pausing at the threshold of the bathroom.

"I've noticed, that you haven't been wearing your ring." She commented, crossing her arms as she leaned casually against the doorframe, a smirk on her face. Lexa was wearing a simple t-shirt and sweatpants ensemble, and she'd never looked more distractingly attractive to Clarke.

"Yea well that's…" The blonde paused, quickly scouring her mind fast for an excuse. She would never confess to losing the ring. She remembered wearing it at some point a few days ago, and then after removing it to paint, she had forgotten where she had left it.

Clarke had searched all over the apartment, upturning every loose-leaf page scattered on the tables, flipping over furniture. But her search had been in vain, because she still could not find it days after she had lost it. Lexa hadn't mentioned it the first few days, but clearly she had caught on now.

"I might have, um," Clarke stalled, looking around in an attempt to look busy, opening the drawers searching for the hairbrush that she knew was on the sink, which Lexa decided to point out.

"Hairbrush is on the left side of the sink." She tilted her chin towards the object, and Clarke flashed her nervous smile.

When she finally met Lexa's gaze from the mirror, meeting knowing green eyes flashing with amusement, she blurted: "I might have misplaced it."

The smile reflected from the mirror in response stunned her, and she turned so that she was facing Lexa. "Why aren't you mad?" She asked. "That ring must have cost a fortune, and yet you're just acting all nonchalant, and smiling?"

Lexa's grin only increased in magnitude. Slowly, she uncrossed her arms and walked up to Clarke, backing her up until the blonde's backside met the sink. "You mean," Lexa reached into her pocket, pulling out a familiar, shimmering object, "this ring?"

Clarke stared at the ring in Lexa's palm, mouth wide open in astonishment. "How," She shook her head in disbelief, "where did you find it?"

"In the bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter." Lexa explained as she reached for Clarke's left hand, but then she paused mid-way. She scrutinized the ring for a few heartbeats. "You know, there's a rule about losing engagement rings." She remarked.

"Really, and what is that?" Clarke asked, intrigued. Lexa looked at the ring, the corner of her mouth turned upwards.

"If you lose it for more than 42 hours then the person who proposed to you has to do it again." Lexa joked good-naturedly. "Did you lose it for that long?" She asked, her green eyes flashing at her.

"It might have been 41 hours," Clarke sighed in mock disappointment, "you think the rule still applies then?" Lexa chuckled, and then she knelt down on both knees, her hands on either side of the blonde's hips.

"No, but at least you get this back." She grinned, taking Clarke's left hand and slipping the ring onto its rightful place. She stood, and Clarke leaned forward to press her lips against the brunette's. When they pulled apart, Lexa grinned at her. "Better not lose it again." She warned her playfully.

"Why, you going to return it, punk?" Clarke asked teasingly, pulling at the waistband of Lexa's sweats, her hand wandering and finding the brunette more than ready for probing fingers. The brunette shook her head at the blonde's antics.

"Yes, and I'll buy you one of those cheap-ass ones from the dollar store." Lexa said dryly. "Now those are easily replaceable."

"How sweet of you." Clarke replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she brushed her lips against Lexa's chin enticingly. Under the waistband of Lexa's underwear, Clarke's hands were working their magic, and Lexa groaned, grinding against the other woman's hold.

"We should take this somewhere more appropriate." Lexa grunted in between each thrust, her breath hot on Clarke's ear. Clarke nipped at the skin on Lexa's shoulder teasingly.

"I agree, my legs are kind of tired." Clarke whispered back, and Lexa released a low moan as she came. The blonde slowly pulled out, cleaning each finger deftly with her mouth before she tilted Lexa's chin up from where it rested on her shoulder. Lexa could taste herself on her fiancée's tongue, and as she gathered her thoughts, she frowned at Clarke questioningly.

"Are your legs actually tired, or is this just another lame excuse to get me to carry you to bed?"

"Hey!" Clarke nudged Lexa with her nose. "I'll have you know that I went to the gym today after work."

"Uh-huh." Lexa hummed, already sweeping Clarke up into her arms.

 

\----

 

Clarke sat on the sofa, re-reading the letters that she had up to this point. She chuckled to herself as she sifted through them, and Anya padded over, two glasses of wine in her hands. Clarke took the offered drink, and they sat in relative quiet. If Anya wanted to approach the topic of Clarke's almost catatonic state at dinner, she was rather subtle about it. Instead, the older woman reached out one hand, and Clarke passed the letters to Anya after a moment of hesitation.

Anya was silent as she read yesterday's, and Clarke observed as the other woman's eyes moved fast from side to side. "She always was a great writer." Anya finally commented as she handed it back to Clarke.

"Well, I never knew that until a few weeks ago." Clarke admitted. She looked at the letter again, memorizing the ordered and neat writing of her wife.

"I can't believe you lost the ring." Anya remarked. Clarke gave her a sheepish look.

"It's not like I planned to." She argued. "I had already explained this to your sister. I just forgot where I put it. Besides, I wasn't used to wearing a ring then." She glanced down at her left hand now, adorned with both the wedding band and the engagement ring. "But I got used to it."

"I never did." Anya said, sighing as she leaned back against the sofa, draining her glass before she set it down on the coffee table. She waved her hair, untangling a few knots. "Then again I never found anyone worthy of me."

Clarke chuckled. "You and Raven seemed to hit it off the other day." She grinned as Anya pulled a face.

"Please, that girl is straight." She argued, and Clarke shook her head.

"She's just like you." She hinted before she took a sip of the wine. Anya's eyes widened, but before Clarke could call her out on the reaction, she quickly reined it in. She replaced it quickly with a mask of indifference, the typical Woods look.

"Well even if she is, I think I'd prefer staying single." Anya sighed. "Relationships, and children, are too much for me."

"But they're worth it!" Clarke sing-songed and Anya rolled her eyes.

"Are you forgetting that night in NYC when you woke us up in the middle of the night, calling about Quinn?" Anya nudged Clarke with her elbow.

"That is literally what Lexa wrote about today." Clarke chuckled. "Imagine the odds of that."

 

\----

 

The calm and quiet of the night was ruined by the cries that echoed off the apartment walls. Clarke groaned, burying her face into Lexa's back.

"Baby." She mumbled into her wife's skin, and there was a resounding grunt.

"Again?" Lexa's question was muffled by her arm, her eyes snapping open for the third time that night. Clarke nodded against Lexa's back. The brunette untangled herself sleepily from her wife's arms as she shrugged off the covers. As she looked over her shoulder, she saw Clarke shuffle into her side of the bed, the pillow she'd abandoned hugged tightly to her chest. Exhausted and sleep-deprived, Lexa still smiled at the sight. The cries of her daughter echoed again, and Lexa started moving.

When she padded over to the crib, her daughter's face was wrinkly and fussy, her cries growing louder. Lexa bent down and scooped her up, checking to see if she had to change her. She frowned, there was nothing. She soothed the toddler with calming strokes on her back, but after minutes the crying only intensified. Lexa pressed her chin against Quinn's forehead, and that's when she felt her entire being snap into a clear-headed consciousness. "It's okay baby." She soothed.

She quickly scooped up her daughter's favorite blanket and tossed it over her shoulder before she hurried back to the bedroom to wake her wife. "Clarke." She shook her shoulder with one hand, the other holding her daughter steady against her chest. "Clarke wake up!" She snapped loudly, and the blonde jerked up.

"What is it?" Clarke asked, a note of irritation in her voice, she blinked blearily at Lexa, who hovered inches from her face. "Why are you talking so loud? You're going to wake Quinn." Clarke said crossly, and Lexa rolled her eyes.

"The baby's right here, and she's really warm." Lexa explained, and immediately Clarke scrambled out of the bed, rubbing her eyes before she opened her arms wide. Lexa placed their daughter into Clarke's arms, and the other woman pressed a hand against her forehead.

"It's a fever." Clarke informed her wife, and Lexa grunted in annoyance.

"Wow, no shit Sherlock." Lexa snapped. Clarke glared daggers at her, and Lexa shook her head impatiently. "I'll get the thermometer." She turned and hurried off to the bathroom, returning with the object in need. Clarke worked quickly and efficiently, and not for the first time, Lexa admired the natural talent she had with handling children.

"This is worryingly high." Clarke said as she looked at it. Her eyes were filled with fear as she showed it to Lexa. "What do we do?"

"I'll call Luna." Lexa said. "And I'll see what she says."

 

Lexa's eyes were bloodshot and dry as she stared at the vending machine. She did not remember what it was she wanted. She was unclear how long she had been standing there, and it wasn't until someone suddenly slapped a hand over her back that she jerked to full-alertness. "What the heck?" Her eyes snapped open, fists brandished in preparation until she realized her attacker was her sister.

"Hey there Lex." Anya greeted her, the coffee in the space between them a peace offering for the fright she'd given her. Lexa took the coffee without complaint, drinking greedily under Anya's scrutiny.

"Where's Clarke and the baby?"

"Room 9c. Quinn just fell asleep," Lexa explained, "and Clarke is watching her."

"What did Luna say?" Anya asked as Lexa leaned heavily against the adjacent wall, the bags under her eyes even more pronounced in the fluorescent lights.

"Well, your wife said that Quinn needs to stay over-night for observation, but she's otherwise okay." Lexa said, and Anya let out a sigh of relief, and the younger woman looked at her quizzically. "But why are you asking me? Can't you weasel information from your wife?"

"Shut up." Anya grunted, and she pulled Lexa upright. "Now why don't we go back to your wife and kid?" Lexa sighed in agreement. They were walking quietly when Lexa blearily glanced at her sister.

"So why aren't you talking to Luna?" She asked. She was wondering if perhaps her sister had not heard her, or maybe she had imagined opening her mouth, when Anya answered.

"We're not on good terms right now." She said curtly.

"Again?" Lexa grunted in exasperation.

"We don't communicate well." Anya stated in lieu of an explanation, and Lexa chuckled tiredly.

"Yea sometimes Clarke and I are the same way." She commented, just barely avoiding a wet floor sign as they walked down the hallway.

"We're divorcing." Anya blurted, and Lexa's eyes widened.

"What?" She squeaked in surprise, jerking to a stop in the middle of the hall. She pulled Anya to a stop next to her. "Why?"

"Like I said, we don't talk much." Anya downplayed it. "And you're right, we've been going at it for ages, it's not a healthy relationship anymore."

Lexa exhaled noisily at the information, shaking her head. "I can't believe it."

"Believe it." Anya quipped. "Because all I have to do is sign on the dotted line, and we're through."

"My god." Lexa exclaimed. "So it's been going on for a while?" She asked. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Anya rubbed her neck awkwardly.

"Well, because it's not really surprising Lex." When the younger woman looked at her with a confused expression, Anya grunted in frustration. "Come on, we both know that I've always had commitment issues."

"Well yes, but you were in love with Luna." Lexa protested, but she knew it was a lost cause.

"Love fades away, it dies down and it moves on." Anya retorted. "The woman I married three years ago and the woman I've been waking up to recently are two different people."

"You can't just give up because you've grown apart from each other." Lexa argued, and her sister only shook her head and huffed at her words.

"You don't think we've tried?" Anya said quietly. "We've tried for months, and there's still no spark. It's dead now." Lexa opened her mouth again but Anya cut her off. "Lex, let's not talk about this right now. Your kid's in the hospital and Clarke is probably in need of you, so let me get your ass over to them, okay?"

Lexa nodded reluctantly, and the rest of the walk was quiet. After Anya kissed her niece on the cheek and left, Lexa moved to occupy the chair next to Clarke. The blonde simply pressed her forehead against Lexa's cheek, and the brunette put an arm around her shoulders.

The only sounds were Quinn's breathing and the IV drip slowly emptying into the infant, and Lexa's eyes had shut when Clarke shifted slightly in her seat. "Lex?"

"Hmm?"

"Luna was acting weird when she was carrying out the exam." Clarke murmured in hushed tones, and Lexa hummed again.

"They're getting a divorce." Suddenly the warmth at her side was gone, and when Lexa opened her eyes she saw Clarke sitting upright, mouth agape at the news.

"But they were solid." Clarke said, her eyebrows high above her forehead. Lexa sighed, rubbing her chin wearily.

"Well I guess that's what happens when you don't really talk to each other." Lexa commented.

"Is that what Anya said?" Clarke asked.

"Yea," Lexa nodded tiredly, "she said that they're no longer in love anymore."

"That's too bad." Clarke sighed, and Lexa's eyelids drifted down again when suddenly a hand was swatting her shoulder.

"What?" She asked wearily.

"Don't ever stop talking to me." Clarke stated. As Lexa met her wife's gaze, she noticed the concerned look on her features, and she groaned inwardly.

"That would be impossible." She murmured quietly. "Babe, even when I'm falling asleep you're talking to me."

Clarke flicked her in the middle of the forehead. "I'm being serious."

"I know," Lexa grunted, "so am I."


	10. Chapter 10

Lexa rubbed her eyes for the fifth time that afternoon, trying to focus on the document in front of her. She had been glued to her desk all shift. Occupying the desk across from her, her partner tossed a wadded up piece of paper at her face.

She managed to swat it away before it made contact with her forehead, shooting him a curious gaze. "What?"

"You looked like you were about to fall asleep." Ryder shrugged innocently enough. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't, keep you on your toes."

"I was never on my toes." Lexa raised an eyebrow, and Ryder grunted.

"Always the smartass." He muttered into his beard. "I should request a new partner."

"Go ahead, I've never been a fan of your scraggly facial hair anyway." Lexa jibed good-naturedly as she typed away, her eyes flashing from one side of the screen to the other as she wrote up a warrant for a search and seizure.

"What?" Ryder put a hand over his chin, giving Lexa a look of astonishment. She glanced up from her screen, frowning at him.

"Come on, this can't be news to you." She challenged, her fingers moving fast over the keyboard. "Don't you remember me saying that a few years back?"

"I thought it was just your twisted way of breaking the ice!" Ryder gawked, which elicited a loud snort from his partner.

"Please, I've never been in the business of breaking ice, ever." Lexa chuckled as she returned her attention to the computer monitor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ryder balling up another piece of scrap paper. "You're a child." She commented.

"At least I'm honest with my partner." He said, putting a large hand over his heart. "Before you no other partner liked my beard." Ryder said, shaking his head in a playful manner, before he tossed the ball at her.

Lexa caught it in her left hand and crumpled it, dropping it into the trashcan on the side of her desk. "Buddy, only your wife likes your beard."

"Well at least that's one person." Ryder sniffed, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I've settled for less."

"Uh-huh." Lexa shook her head as she finished up the warrant. "I can testify to that for sure," She glanced at him teasingly, "you've definitely settled for much less." Ryder was about to protest, his mouth forming a circle, when Lexa's phone began vibrating on the desktop.

She had barely even said a word into the phone when her wife's frantic voice was heard on the other end. "Clarke? Slow down, I can't hear a word you're saying."

"I'm bleeding, Lex." Now that, Lexa heard loud and clear. Panic flooded her at the implications of that statement.

"When did it start?" She asked, already standing from her desk and reaching for her coat.

"A few seconds ago," Clarke's voice was fearful and anxious, "I was just walking down the stairs when I saw the blood flowing down from my legs." She gasped in pain. "Lex, I don't know what to do."

"Call an ambulance." Lexa said as calmly as she could; if she panicked too Clarke would certainly lose it. "I'll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can." She was already hurrying out of the office, waving off Ryder's concerned look, her heart in her throat.

 

Lexa hovered next to Clarke as Luna ran her tests on the blonde. When she finally looked up at them with mournful brown eyes, Lexa felt her throat constricting in pain. Luna bit her lip, clearly trying to find a way to break it to them gently, but Lexa already knew what she was going to say.

"I'm sorry." Was all the doctor managed, and immediately Clarke's face crumpled inward, covering her face with her hands to muffle the quiet sobs. Luna hung her head, and she placed a hand on Lexa's shoulder.

"You did everything you could." Lexa said, grief filling her entire being. She wanted to say more, but she simply couldn't open her mouth, her jaw clenching as she held it in. Luna nodded, and she stepped out of the room, giving the two distraught women some space.

Lexa wanted to break something. Her knuckles turned white from the bone-crushing grip she was exerting on the hospital chair. She wanted to fling it across the room in her grief, but she could not. Not when her wife was lying on the bed, absolutely catatonic and withdrawn. Her needs came before Lexa's. "Clarke?" She asked uncertainly, and that's when the crack in her armor appeared. She watched as the mask of impassivity collapsed inward on itself, and the first tear began to fall.

Clarke was completely and utterly despondent, and Lexa sat on the edge of the bed and held her in her arms as she broke down into tears. The brunette whispered incoherent words of comfort to her wife, pressing kisses into her hair. She ignored the grief and loss that consumed her; she had to be strong for her wife.

Later, when the tears had momentarily stopped flooding, Clarke jerked away from Lexa's arms. The brunette was shocked by the sudden movement, and she frowned. "Clarke?"

"Don't hate me." Clarke mumbled quietly, eyes downcast and red. Lexa gave her a perplexed stare.

"Why would I hate you?" The word sounded foreign even as it left her mouth, and Clarke glanced sideways at Lexa's confused expression.

"I lost our baby." Clarke said, and even as she said it she flinched in pain and sorrow. Lexa shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears that she had refused to let fall.

"No Clarke, I can never blame you for this." Lexa protested, and she tilted her wife's chin to meet her gaze. "I love you, and this won't change anything."

"I lost our child." Clarke repeated, twin streams pouring down her cheeks. Lexa gently wiped away the salty tears with her hands. "I lost our baby." The brunette shook her head in distress, refusing to listen to what her wife was saying.

"Clarke, stop blaming yourself." Lexa commanded sternly, fighting the swelling of pain and torment that tried to break over her in a torrent, threatening to pull her into a deep dark abyss of inconsolable anguish. Clarke's gaze snapped up at her, the grief and remorse darkening her beautiful blue eyes.

"But I did this." Clarke said through the sobs that shook her shoulders. "You told me not to overexert myself, but I didn't listen to you, and now-" She hiccoughed, burying her face in her hands, ashamed and overcome.

The sight of her wife falling apart at the seams was too much for her, and Lexa pulled Clarke into her arms, allowing a solitary tear fall from her eye as she pressed kiss after kiss into her golden hair, her cheeks, her forehead, her nose.

"I could never hate you." Lexa confessed into the wild locks of blonde hair as her wife completely crumpled into her chest. "I love you more." She said quietly, her arms locked tight around her wife's body. "This sucks, and it hurts me too." Lexa kissed the tip of Clarke's nose, and then the corner of her lips. "But I will never hate you."

"How could you not?" Clarke asked, morose and afraid, and Lexa only held her tighter to her, trying to absorb all the pain and sorrow from her wife. She wanted to take it from her, to relieve her from the guilt and the anger and the loss, but she knew she could not. She settled for what she could, and she brushed her lips over the tear tracks on her wife's face.

"Because I love you more."

 

\----

 

Because I love you more.

Clarke went over that last sentence with her finger, brushing the paper reverently. She was sitting on the bench, down by the water. She was the only one at the park this morning. Around her, the birds chirped cheerily and the squirrels leapt up and down their woodland domain. She cleared her throat, the words overwhelming her as her eyes scanned them again.

I love you more.

Her wife the sap. It had been decades since she had thought of that fateful day. Clearly Lexa had never forgotten that conversation in the hospital room, when she had been completely filled with anguish and woe.

Quinn had never known about it. After the miscarriage, it had been three years until they had both been in the right mindset to even entertain the idea of having a child. Lexa had never blamed her for it, not once. She had swallowed her own heartache, and for the next few months she had doted on a heartbroken and near-catatonic Clarke. There had been moments where Clarke had almost felt herself edging that black chasm of endless and consuming desolation. It was Lexa's presence, her soothing touch and her calming voice, her physical presence next to her that had kept the loneliness at bay for months, mending her with gentle words and understanding green eyes. She had put her back together piece by piece, drawing her out from her vigil of despair and healing her with a never-ending patience.

Now as she sat, alone, Clarke longed for the feel of Lexa's breath against the back of her neck, of fingertips lilting upon her shoulders. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again she looked outward upon the body of water that ebbed and flowed peacefully against the shore.

She saw her wife, swimming strongly in the water, carrying their infant daughter on her shoulders, throwing her off the dock with a booming laugh that seemed to echo timelessly across the lake. Clarke saw Lexa's loving devotion – previously reserved only for her – extend to include their daughter with an effortless grace, instantaneous and natural. She had been an observer, watching from behind the scenes as Lexa protected Quinn with her entire being, with all that she had. She had stood witness to that look of sheer pride that consumed Lexa's features when Quinn had taken her first steps under the far-reaching fingers of their favorite tree.

Lexa had swept Quinn up into her arms, parading her around in delight, and Clarke had giggled at the ridiculous sight of them, happy tears welling at her eyes. When their daughter had fallen asleep between them on the picnic blanket, Lexa had bridged the distance between them, kissing her tenderly, that affectionate gleam ever-present in her gaze with promises of a life filled with an eternal love that would overcome all the tribulations that they would face.

 

\----

 

She had gotten the call late at night. The other side of the bed was empty, an occurrence that had ensued for fourteen days now. Lexa had been assigned graveyard shift for the past two weeks, often coming home just as Clarke was leaving the house to get to the studio. That had left them with little time for each other, and Clarke was eagerly anticipating when the torment of it would end. She had been counting down the days, and there were only a few more nights of sliding into bed alone before her wife would be joining her.

Her head was buried under her pillow, the sheets tangled around her splayed limbs when the phone rang loudly and obnoxiously. Clarke's heart leapt in surprise, her head jolting up, her eyes wide and her hair a mess as she scrambled to answer.

"Hello?" She asked groggily.

"Clarke Griffin?" The recognizable gruff voice of Ryder filtered through the speaker, and Clarke rubbed her eyes, her brain connecting the dots quickly. He only ever called for one reason.

"Where is she?" She asked, fully alert and already rushing to the closet to find something to throw on in the dark. She pulled a sweatshirt over her head, shoving her wallet into the pockets of the large hoodie.

"Bellevue, but listen Clarke," Ryder's voice was suddenly muffled, and then Clarke heard the unmistakable voice of her wife, and she sounded annoyed. There was a whooshing sound on the other line, and then Ryder continued talking. "She didn't want me to call you, but I thought you should know."

"I'm coming down there right now." Clarke said sharply. "And Ryder, you better make sure she doesn't take her ass off that hospital bed.

"Yes ma'am." He answered, chuckling lightly before the sounds of a punch and the following grunt of pain were heard. Clarke rolled her eyes, ending the call as she hurried to find her keys.

 

Clarke was marching through the glass doors, and standing at the reception area was the tall hulking figure of Ryder. The detective waved her over, and she stalked up to him. "How bad is it?" She asked as he led her down the maze of hallways.

"Two cracked ribs and a grade-1 concussion." He filled her in as they walked. She barely looked at him, her gaze fixed determinedly on each step she took closer and closer to the woman she was going to kill.

"What happened?" She growled.

"There was a violent suspect resisting arrest." Ryder stated, and when she shot him a glare, he elaborated. "She took two slugs to the vest." The blonde's irritation seemed to radiate off her, and Ryder added quickly: "She's fine."

"She won't be once I get my hands on her." She gritted her teeth, and Ryder gulped as he led her past three doors until he stopped at Lexa's room. He gestured to her, and Clarke marched through the open doorway.

Lexa was leaning heavily against a reclined bed, wearing a polka-dotted gown on her body and a grimace on her face. She opened her eyes when she had heard light footsteps, and instantly fiery blue eyes pierced her own. Immediately, Lexa shifted in an attempt to sit up without the aid of the bed, and Clarke crossed the distance in two long strides.

"Don't you dare move." She hissed, two hands pushing her wife down, keeping her firmly against the mattress.

"Clarke, I can explain." Lexa started, both hands raised in a placating manner, but Clarke silenced her with a glare.

"You got shot, and you didn't want to tell me?" She kept her voice low, aware of the open door and the other patients next door. Lexa glared back at her defiantly for a few heartbeats, before the look disappeared, a resigned expression replacing it.

"I didn't want to worry you." She sighed in defeat, and Clarke had to resist the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her wife. Instead, she brought her face inches from Lexa's an annoyed expression on her face.

"You could have died." She growled lowly, and Lexa looked at the foot of the bed sheepishly.

"But I didn't." Lexa supplied, her voice quiet and timid, and that only set Clarke into the deep end.

"Not today, but tomorrow, that's a different story." Clarke snapped, irritated with the flippant manner at which her wife toed the line between life and death. "Is it your desire to scare me to death for as long as I live?" She asked, her eyes narrowed at her wife.

"I'm sorry." Lexa muttered lowly, and Clarke rolled her eyes.

"Wrong, try again." The blonde fixed Lexa with her intense gaze, and Lexa exhaled loudly, wincing as she did.

"I'm sorry, and you're right." Lexa leaned her head back against the pillows in defeat, finally looking up earnestly at her wife.

"Better." Clarke said, and she shook her head as her wife shut her eyes, exhausted, and she couldn't help but forgive her wife at the sight of her bruised and injured before her. With a long-suffering sigh, she pressed her lips to her wife's forehead, keeping contact for a heartbeats before she pulled away to look at her wife.

"You're an idiot." She whispered softly to the woman, and Lexa blinked open one eye.

"I really am sorry." Lexa murmured, looking more than a little put-off, and Clarke chuckled lightly as she took Lexa's hand in hers.

"I know." Clarke said, her thumb stroking her wife's bruised knuckles. "But sometimes, I just can't help but think you like this sort of thing." She confessed quietly, and Lexa opened her other eye.

"I don't." Lexa countered under the dim lights. "It was part of my job, but no longer." Clarke frowned at her use of past tense.

"What are you saying?" She asked cautiously, and Lexa gestured with an outstretched arm to where her jacket hung over the chair at her bedside. The movement elicited a groan of pain, which Clarke soothed with another kiss on her cheek and a hand on her shoulder.

"In the left pocket." Lexa instructed her through gritted teeth, and Clarke padded over, one hand reaching in to where she had directed her.

At the tip of her fingers, she felt a piece of paper, folded several times, and she pulled it out. "What's this?" She asked her wife, who was watching her with an intense gaze.

"It's a transfer notice." Lexa announced, to Clarke's astonishment. The blonde gaped at her for a second, before she regained the ability to talk.

"What?" She asked, her eyes wide as she looked at her wife in surprise.

"I'm moving to Intelligence." Lexa explained, shifting slightly to sit up higher on the bed. "There was a sergeant's opening in the unit, and I passed my exam last week," The brunette glanced briefly at the paper in Clarke's hands. "I got the job."

"You did?" Clarke was still stunned by the news, and Lexa gauged her expression with a careful eye as she nodded.

"It's mostly an office job, no arresting perps or chasing suspects down alleyways in the ungodly hours of the night." Lexa informed her. "I'd only ever have to go out into the action if there was something pressing that required my attention, but otherwise," She gestured to her injured ribs, "you'll be seeing this less often."

Clarke stood there gaping at Lexa. "Why are you doing this?" She asked, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"For you." Lexa said simply, and she watched as an elated expression suddenly spread across Clarke's face, lighting up the entire room with the brilliance of her smile.

She returned to Lexa's side, looking deeply into her eyes, adoration and affection reflected in her wife's gaze. "I love you." She whispered as she bent down and kissed Lexa on the lips.

 

\----

 

It was after realizing that today was the twentieth of July that the cloud that Clarke had been floating on came crashing down. The knowledge that there were only four more left until the end made her heart clench with pain; her wife's last gift to her would soon be meeting its end, and Clarke could not bear the thought. It was three days until their anniversary, three days until the day that Clarke's life had really started to begin.

As she swiveled around on her chair to take in the view from the window, she looked out toward the lake that she knew was hidden by the different buildings and trees. Tuesdays were their days, a time devoted to each other, no kid, no dog, and no work. Cell phones were turned off and laptops abandoned in the study, and for a day, the only thing they thought about was each other.

Her wife had written eloquently about it, eliciting a chuckle as she recalled fond memories of their very first excursion out on the lake.

 

\----

 

Clarke watched through the shade of her sunglasses from her spot by the lake as Lexa pushed out of the water. The woman walked over to join her on the blanket, droplets leaving trails down her body. Clarke couldn't help but stare at the toned muscles rippling as her wife moved, the book she had been reading abandoned.

"You're drooling." Lexa commented as she threw herself down on the blanket, lying next to the blonde. Clarke rolled her eyes at Lexa's words, closing her book.

"Shut up." She scolded, but she did not complain as her wife moved to greet her with a chaste kiss. As Lexa pulled away, Clarke quickly snaked an arm around her neck, drawing out the contact for a bit longer before releasing her.

"Did you see something you like?" Lexa asked, breathless as she grinned at her wife. Clarke nudged Lexa hard in the side.

"You're very sexy, is that enough for you?" She asked in a playful tone, and Lexa's grin increased.

"More than enough." She said, rolling Clarke onto her back and hovering over her with a knowing glint in her eye.

They kissed under the gaze of the vigilant sun for ages. Clarke burrowed into Lexa's side as they lay, content to stay here forever. Lexa's chest moved rhythmically, lulling Clarke into a drowsy state, her eyes closing as she listened to the steady thump of her wife's heart against her chest.

This day had been reserved for them. Schedules had been cleared and a babysitter in the form of Lincoln and Octavia had been arranged. It had been their first weekend alone since they had moved back to Seattle. It had been a hectic few months, and travelling with a three-year old on a plane had been challenging, but finally there was peace and quiet.

The house was a ten minute drive from downtown, and with its enormous backyard and spacious rooms, they had pounced on it immediately. It was also to their benefit that there was a park only blocks away with a gorgeous lake spanning far and majestic, and its beautiful scenery ultimately had been their destination getaway for the next twenty-four hours of just the two of them.

"We should do this every month." Lexa broke the companionable, drowsy silence between them, and Clarke grinned as she rested her chin on the brunette's chest.

"Every month?" She repeated incredulously before she settled more comfortably, her cheek pressed against Lexa's warm shoulder. "More like every week." Lexa's laughter vibrated in her chest, and Clarke savored the feeling of it in her bones.

Clarke had an arm flung out across Lexa's waist, and she entangled their fingers, playing with each digit as Lexa closed her eyes, relaxed and sleepy.


	11. Chapter 11

Today was the day. Twenty-three letters and the tears in between had led to this day. Clarke sat out on the porch, lost in thought. It was early morning. She awaited the arrival of the last one, and when she heard the cheery tune of the mailman, she stood to greet him. She strode down the steps and walked up to the head of the driveway

He waved at her, an innocent grin on his face as he pulled out the bundle of letters, handing hers over. "Have great day!" He said as he turned and continued his route. Clarke flashed him a smile before her hands were sifting through the letters.

It wasn't there. Clarke frowned. She quickly hurried after the mailman, calling to him. "Herb!" The man turned, looking at her in surprise from across the street.

"Clarke." He said jovially. "What can I do for you?" She held the mail in her hand as she crossed the street.

"Herb, I was wondering if perhaps there's another letter of mine that you might have missed?" She asked. Herb frowned.

"I'll check in my bag, but I'm sure that's all." He rummaged inside the red canvas bag, searching for her name and address, and after minutes his hand came up empty. "Sorry, there's nothing else for you." He said apologetically.

With a crestfallen look on her face, Clarke nodded. "Okay, thanks for your help." She said, and Herb gave her a lopsided smile before she spun around on her heel and walked back up the steps and into the house.

She threw herself onto the sofa. It didn't make sense. Today was the twenty-fourth. It was supposed to be the last letter.

"Hey Mom." Quinn yawned as she trotted over to the sofa. She smiled at her mother, a nervous energy in her step. Clarke frowned as she looked at her daughter.

"Why do you have that look on your face?" Clarke asked suspiciously. Quinn clasped her hands behind her back, feigning innocence.

"What look?"

"The look that clearly says that you're hiding something behind your back." Clarke said, raising an eyebrow. Quinn gave her mother a wide smile, before she slowly brought her hands in front of her, revealing the white envelope between her fingers.

"What-" Clarke looked at her daughter in wonder and astonishment. Her daughter grinned shyly at her mother.

"Mom gave it to me a few days before the accident." She began to explain as she sat down next to her mother, whose eyes were wide and following her daughter's every movement. "She said that when the big day came, I should give this to you."

"Honey," Clarke shook her head, watching as Quinn gently placed the final letter on her knees.

"Mom, this is the last one." Quinn said, biting her lip as she looked down at the tail-end of the sheepskin rug, and Clarke shuffled closer to her daughter.

"I know sweetie." Clarke whispered, a hand stroking her daughter's cheek.

"Are you going to be okay?" Quinn asked quietly, and Clarke frowned. She had been asking herself that question ever since the first letter came to her.

The past twenty-three days had given her the last connection that she would ever had to Lexa. After this was all over, when the last letter was read, she would truly and utterly be alone in this world. Her wife would no longer be speaking to her through ink and paper, and even acknowledging it now caused her heart to clench in pain.

"I don't know." She confessed quietly to her daughter, thinking back to the previous three days that had passed by so quickly. It was the knowledge that they were the last that made reading them even harder, and Clarke closed her eyes, the twenty-fourth and final one between her trembling hands.

 

\----

 

Seventy-two hours ago

The sound of typing echoed off the living room walls as Clarke padded downstairs to see what the racket was about. Quinn was stretched out on the sofa, legs propped up on the cushions as she worked on an essay. She looked up at the sound of her mother stepping on that creaky stair, and she shot her a quick, distracted smile. "Hey Mom." She greeted her briefly as she returned her attention to the word document open in front of her.

Clarke smiled at her daughter before she padded down the hall. She returned seconds later with a laundry basket, which she brought to the living room. She sat down on the recliner and began folding the various articles of clothing in a companionable silence, the rapid typing the only sound that could be heard in the room.

She was finishing up, folding her favorite sweater that once had been Lexa's, when Quinn glanced up at her and scrutinized her through her thick-framed glasses. Clarke's hair was tied in a messy bun atop her head, her ring gleaming under the lamplight as she worked, wearing a simple t-shirt and pajama bottoms that made her look young and refreshed. "You look beautiful Mom." Quinn commented casually. She met Clarke's gaze, giving her a quick smile before she returned to finalizing her conclusion when Clarke interrupted her.

"What did you just say?" Clarke asked. Quinn glanced back at her mom over the screen in mild confusion. Her mother's face was stunned, and she looked unnerved, as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Mom," She closed the lid of her laptop and placed it on the coffee table, "what's going on?"

"What you-" Clarke licked her lips, steadying herself, "what did you say to me a few minutes ago?" Quinn frowned at her mother's question.

"I said you look beautiful." She repeated, an eyebrow raised. "Mom, are you okay?" Clarke stared at her in bewilderment, and Quinn nervously padded over to her mother and knelt at the side of the recliner, a hand on her knee.

"Mom?" She squeezed gently, and Clarke seemed to pull herself out of whatever she was thinking of, and she shot her a distracted smile.

"I'm fine sweetie." She answered quickly enough, and that only made Quinn more suspicious.

"What are you not telling me?" She stood to her full height, trying to capture her mother's gaze in her own. Clarke finally tilted her chin to look up into serious green eyes, and she smiled tightly before she explained.

"You basically repeated what your mother had said to me on that sofa," She indicated with a tilt of her head, "a few days before the accident."

 

\----

 

Clarke walked down the stairs one foot at a time, her hands full with the overflowing laundry basket. The palm of her right foot felt out the final step, and she let out a sigh of relief before she started towards the laundry room. She piled everything into the washing machine and collected all the recently dried clothes for folding.

In the living room, Lexa was busy reading over a case file, a frown plastered over her features as she read and wrote on a notepad. She had pushed the coffee table closer to the sofa so she could work, her hair balanced haphazardly in a messy ponytail and her glasses slowly slipping off the bridge of her nose.

Clarke smiled, content at the sight of her wife at home – working, but here nonetheless. The blonde joined her on the sofa, giving her a kiss on the cheek in greeting before she set the laundry basket down and began folding the clothes on the unoccupied part of the coffee table. Lexa hummed in approval at Clarke's presence, but didn't bother saying anything as she wrote furiously on the notepad, the pen flying across the page.

This was Lexa when she worked. Focused and determined, hardly deterred or distracted by anything else, she honed into the facts of the case and chased leads with stunning efficiency. It was a part of Lexa that Clarke loved – and simultaneously hated at times. The blonde just took it all in, the sight of her wife engrossed in the pages and pages within the manila folder. She stared, an affectionate look in her eyes. She hadn't realized how long she had been gazing, love-struck, until she heard a throat clearing loudly. Instantly, her eyes snapped up and met an amused green gaze.

"A little distracted tonight?" Lexa asked, the corner of her mouth quirking in amusement, and Clarke stuck her tongue out at her wife.

"You're an ass." Clarke retorted, and her hands hastily reached for the jeans at the top of the basket, busying herself with folding and organizing. She heard Lexa chuckled heartily, and wholly expected the sound the scribbling to commence, but when it did not, she chanced a look up at the brunette, only to see her wife gazing at her with what Anya had mockingly coined 'heart eyes'.

"Are you going to continue working?" Clarke asked as she returned her attention to folding a linen blouse.

"You look beautiful." Lexa said quietly, and Clarke smiled as her hands moved deftly in completing her chore.

"I know, you've been saying that almost every day since we've been together." Clarke commented as she placed the folded laundry into the basket. She stood from the sofa and deposited the basket at the foot of the stairs amid the low chuckle from her wife. She hummed under her breath and ambled over to the kitchen. The dishes were not going to wash themselves.

Clarke had just padded over to the sink, the sponge in her hand when she suddenly felt warm breath against the exposed skin at her neck and nimble fingers on her waist. "Stop distracting me." She scolded Lexa, fighting a grin.

The brunette pressed a soft kiss to her clothed shoulder, her arms encircling her waist. "I love this." Lexa whispered, gentle lips grazing and lighting a fire under Clarke's skin.

"You love seeing your wife washing the dishes?" Clarke joked, leaning back against the strong body behind her.

"I love having time to ourselves after a very long, very frustrating day." Lexa elaborated, and she reached out one hand to take the sponge from between Clarke's fingers, dropping it ceremoniously on the slink. Clarke smiled and turned in Lexa's arms, swooning under her wife's loving gaze.

"I love that too." Clarke connected their lips, her hand on Lexa's cheek. The hold around her waist tightened, and then she felt her backside hit the kitchen counter. Lexa swiped her tongue at Clarke's bottom lip, and she allowed her access immediately, the blonde melting into her wife's touch. Lexa's snaked under her shirt, a hand cupped at her breast, and Clarke moaned loudly at the contact. She leaned back against the sink, and Lexa lavished attention to her neck.

"I especially love this part." Lexa murmured hotly against her skin, and Clarke pulled closer to her, her heart beating fast with anticipation as deft hands wandered all over her body. It was this kind of teasing that made Clarke slightly impatient. She wanted Lexa, badly, tonight, and when the brunette continued to kiss and tease, a finger hesitating at her hipbone as she panted heavily under her touch, Clarke took matters into her own hands.

A hand went to the zipper on Lexa's jeans, and she was just about to pull it down when she heard the sound of the door opening and heartbeats later, footsteps clumping down the hallway. Before she could peel herself off her wife, Quinn walked into the kitchen.

"Oh my god!" Quinn's shriek of horror had Lexa immediately jerking her hand out from Clarke's shirt, jumping so far apart from her wife that her hip collided with the kitchen island.

"Shit!" Lexa swore loudly, and Clarke instantly had a hand on between her shoulder blades, rubbing comfortingly while she looked sheepishly at their daughter. "Are you okay sweetie?" She asked her wife in a hushed voice. The brunette didn't utter a word, her jaw clenched in pain as she nodded unconvincingly.

Situated on the other side of the kitchen, Quinn quietly counted to twenty in her head. At the sight of her mothers in such a compromising position, Quinn had hastily thrown her hands over her eyes, turning her back on them. Ordinarily, she would have streaked up the stairs and hid in her room, but after a late night exam, she was starving. "Are you two decent?" She called over her shoulder.

Clarke readjusted her bra, her cheeks red with embarrassment before she answered her. "We're good." Lexa was leaning heavily on the countertop, rubbing her now-tender hip with an equally flushed face.

Quinn slowly turned around, and Clarke smiled brightly at her, trying her best to not look too guilty at being caught. "How was your exam?" She asked, and Lexa also turned her head to await their daughter's answer.

"Oh it went okay, I think I managed at least a B+." Quinn marched stiffly over to the fridge, opening it without looking either mother in the eye.

"That's great!" Lexa praised her daughter loudly. She walked over to pat Quinn on the back heartily before she limped away to return to the sofa. Clarke shot her a glare, astounded that she had ditched her to awkwardly hover at Quinn's side.

"Yea it is." Quinn said as she finally pulled her head out from the fridge, a tupperware box filled with last night's leftovers in her hand. She turned to Clarke, and awkwardly cleared her throat. "Uh, Mom, you're kind of blocking my way to the microwave."

"Oh of course!" Clarke shuffled out of her daughter's path immediately, and after a pause, quickly moved to join her wife in the living room.

"Oh, and Moms?" Quinn was starting down the hallway, and she threw her next words over her shoulder. Clarke met Lexa's unnerved gaze, and the blonde decided to answer for the both of them.

"Yes?"

"Next time you two want to do the dirty, maybe don't do it in the kitchen." Lexa instantly cleared her throat, suddenly very interested in the file in front of her, while Clarke flushed a deep red. She had to take a moment to collect herself before she answered.

"We'll keep that in mind." She heard Quinn scoff as she disappeared upstairs, and Lexa released a pent-up breath of air.

"That was embarrassing." She chuckled as she leaned back on the sofa. Clarke swatted her on the shoulder.

"And it's all your fault!" She scolded as she collapsed onto the unoccupied side of the leather couch, her legs swinging up to rest on Lexa's lap. Clarke covered her face with her hands, trying to forget what just happened.

"Maybe I started it," Lexa conceded, "but you were definitely just as eager and willing." She added. That only earned her a heel digging into her abdomen.

"Are you even embarrassed?" Clarke asked, peering at her wife through her fingers as she nudged the brunette's elbow with her toe.

"Of course, but it's happened already, so there's really no point in stressing out." Lexa glanced sideways at her wife with a raised eyebrow, and Clarke just groaned and rested her head on the armrest.

"Remember when she was still a baby, and we always knew where she was? Instead of unknowingly walking in on us about to have sex in the kitchen?" Clarke asked contemplatively, and Lexa chuckled.

"Oh god, those were the days." Lexa sighed wistfully, putting down her pen to wink playfully at Clarke. "We literally could have sex everywhere."

 

\----

 

"Are you talking about when I walked in on you two after my exam?" Quinn asked after Clarke had recounted the memory to her – leaving out the content of her and Lexa's conversation after the awkward encounter. Unlike the other memories that Lexa had written about on the twenty-four day journey, this was one that Clarke still had relatively fresh on her mind. That night had been the last time she would ever feel Lexa's skin pressed intimately against her own, and that brought Clarke near tears.

She sniffed to keep them at bay, and Quinn sensed the shift in her mother's emotions. She sat on the arm of the recliner, rubbing Clarke's back gently. "I'm sorry I keep reminding you of Mom." Quinn said quietly.

"No, don't apologize." Clarke blinked away the wetness clouding her eyes to pull her daughter into her arms, comforted by the contact. "You remind me of your mother for all the right reasons." She smiled, her eyes watery as she looked at her daughter. "She was always so proud of you. She'd point you out to other people on the stands during your soccer games and say 'that's my girl' with that ridiculous smile on her face."

Quinn smiled shyly. She remembered those moments just as well as her mother did. Both parents had been present at her last game, and she had recalled rather clearly when Lexa had stood and cheered louder than anyone else in the stands, her green eyes glinting with happiness. "She was always so supportive." Quinn agreed. She felt a twinge of guilt; she had been slightly embarrassed at her mother's outpour of support then. Now she would never have her mother there, cheering her on at her games any longer.

"She was your number one fan." Clarke informed her with a watery chuckle. "She used to parade you around in the living room when you were just a ten-month old baby." The blonde smiled. "She would sweep you up in her strong arms, she'd look at me and say: 'look at her, look at this beautiful human in my arms, she's ours, can you believe that?'" Quinn fought back her own tears as she watched her mother breaking apart in front of her very eyes. "At night, she would cradle you in her arms and promise you the sun, the sky, and the stars."

 

\----

 

Clarke stretched out one hand in the middle of the night to reach for her wife, but instead she was met with cold sheets and an empty space. Frowning, she cracked open both eyes. She was alone. The baby monitor was silent, and Clarke had an inkling of where her wife was. She padded barefoot out of the open door and to the wide open space of the living room.

Lexa was rocking their child back and forth in the middle of the room, cooing to her as she swayed. She turned around at the sound of the blonde's footsteps, giving her a wide, affectionate grin. Clarke leaned against the wall with a tired smile. "Lex, come to bed." She whispered quietly so as not to wake the sleeping babe.

"Soon." Lexa promised in a hushed voice. "She just fell asleep a few minutes ago." Clarke strode over to her on light feet, getting a good look at their child. She was gripping tightly to the stuffed purple octopus in her tiny fingers – the toy that Lexa had bought for her down at the hospital gift shop, and Clarke felt her heart fill with love and adoration.

"She's so beautiful when she's asleep." Clarke whispered, and Lexa agreed with a gentle hum.

"She is." Lexa said softly, a tender look in her eyes, and Clarke couldn't resist leaning close to drop a kiss on the brunette's forehead.

"She's our baby." Lexa said in wonder as she looked at the bundle in her arms. "This is our child, the greatest and only creation we can ever claim to have had a part in."

"Our little princess." Clarke added affectionately, her index finger brushing lightly over the tiny fist balled up around one of the octopus's tentacles. Lexa chuckled at the term of endearment.

"Do you think she'll remember these moments, when she's older?" Lexa asked her wife, and Clarke smiled and kissed the brunette's brow.

"I don't know, but even if she doesn't, I'll be there to remind her whenever she's mad at you." Lexa made a face, and Clarke put a hand over her own mouth to muffle the gentle laughter shaking her shoulders.

"What makes you think she'll be mad at me most of the time?"

"Well," Clarke coiled her finger around a loose strand of brown hair, "you did say that you would scare the hell out of every single boy or girl she brings home."

"You bring up a good point." Lexa yawned, and Clarke chuckled again, shaking her head at her ridiculous, goofy, doting wife.

"Come on Lex, time for bed." Clarke urged her, and she took the slumbering child from her wife's arms. Lexa let out a low murmur of protest, but she allowed Quinn to slip through her fingers nonetheless. She settled with following her wife down the hall to the baby's room, watching the love of her life putting their child in the crib.

Once Clarke had finished tucking Quinn in, she stood and pulled an exhausted by the wrist to their room. Lexa collapsed into the bed, sliding under the covers with Clarke in tow. The blonde settled against her wife's shoulder, her arm on her waist. Lexa tucked an arm around her, holding her snugly against her side, and Clarke fell asleep to the lulling sounds of the familiar rhythm beating strongly for their family.

 

\----

 

It had been three months and two weeks since her wife's death, and Clarke still felt the pain piercing her heart so strongly as if it had only been yesterday that Lexa's heart had beat for the last time. The most ironic part about her death however, had been the cause.

For years on end, Clarke had always fretted and worried about her wife dying on the job. Several sleepless nights had been spent concerned about her wife's decisions, of her selfless actions. She had, in the darkest of moments, wished that her wife wasn't so self-sacrificing, that her sense of duty did not overpower her, guiding her actions in dangerous situations that she faced every day.

The stint in the Intelligence unit had only made Lexa dissatisfied and jumpy. She had all this energy that was cooped up behind a desk, yet she had suffered through it for almost two years before Clarke had noticed the dip in her wife's interest in work. She used to walk with a rangy powerful lope, but in those few years behind a desk, she seemed to slump and drag her feet.

Clarke had been blind to her wife's discomfort for months, but once she had noticed it, she had been quick to find a solution for her. That was not a memory that she would ever let slip through her fingers, and Lexa's words on the ink were an insurance of remembrance.

Lexa had her head resting against her forearms as she sat at the kitchen table. She had just sat through a twelve hour shift in the office, and she felt a migraine tapping at the back of her head tauntingly. Work no longer seemed to bring her the joy and excitement as it had in her stint with Major Crimes. She dreaded the sight of her desk at the office, sitting there for hours with nothing but stare at the department-issued computers all day – computers that were exceedingly slow and froze sporadically. At times, she considered throwing the monitor out the window in frustration. She hated it, and she wanted to pull her hair out. She needed to tell Clarke.

She heard the unmistakable clicking of the lock, and then the door opened, revealing her wife laden with multiple grocery bags. Lexa leapt from her seat to help her, plastering a smile on her face. "Let me take those for you." She said hastily, her hands already reaching out to do just that.

"Thank you." Clarke said gratefully, relieved of the heavy load that she had carried all the way up from the parking lot. Lexa shuffled efficiently to put away the groceries for her, and Clarke slid onto a stool to remove her heels.

Catching her wife's weariness, Lexa retrieved the nice bottle of red wine from the rack, pouring a glass which she handed deftly to Clarke. "Just what I needed." The blonde sighed as she took a sip.

Lexa wrung her hands nervously from across the counter, waiting for Clarke to finish savoring the mouthful of wine. But should she? The internal war was not lost on Clarke, who honed into the struggle immediately.

"Lexa, what is it?" She frowned at Lexa's shifty behaviour, and the brunette cracked under her inquisitive gaze.

"I um…was wondering," Lexa stalled by staring up at the ceiling, feigning forgetfulness of the subject matter, "uh-"

"You're about to ask if you can transfer out of Intelligence and into Homicide." Clarke looked at her with a raised eyebrow, and Lexa gaped at her. Her jaw wagged, trying to buy herself some time. Her wife did not look particularly annoyed or disappointed, but neither did she look happy. In fact, Clarke's expression was completely unreadable.

Lexa cleared her throat, rubbing her neck awkwardly. "How did you know?"

"You've been twitchy for months." Clarke explained casually before she took another healthy swig of her wine. She swallowed it with a hum of satisfaction before she fixed Lexa with a perceptive gaze. "At first I didn't notice it, but in recent months you've been grumpy and even more impatient than usual."

Lexa ran her hand over her face, shaking her head. "So you're not…mad that I want to go back out there?" She asked tentatively, and Clarke smiled resignedly at her.

"I can't be mad at you. You've been trying for a year and a half to respect my wishes, and I love you for that." Clarke gave Lexa a lopsided smile. "But I know you, and you won't be able to take sitting around, shackled to a desk for any longer."

Lexa exhaled breathily, but she had to ask one more time. "And you're absolutely sure you're okay with this? Homicide won't be as dangerous, but I won't do it unless you say so."

"I'll never be okay with you throwing yourself in danger." Clarke sighed. "But we've tried keeping you indoors, you're like a border collie that needs to go out and run every day." The blonde walked around the counter, moving close to Lexa, her hands moving up to cup her wife's cheeks affectionately. "You're an amazing, wonderful person who loves to protect people, and I can't fault you for that."

Lexa smiled, pressing a kiss to Clarke's palm. "I love you so much."

 

\----

 

Three months and two weeks ago

Clarke had gotten the frantic call from her daughter hours after the sun had fallen. She was still in the upstairs office of the gallery, busy sketching out a rough draft of her centerpiece for the new exhibit when her phone started ringing. With her pencil still in one hand, Clarke answered with the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder. "Hey love."

"Mom, you have to come to the hospital right now." She could barely hear what Quinn was saying amidst the sobs, and she sought to understand, her heart clenching tightly in fear.

"What's happened? Where are you?" Clarke stopped mid-sketch, listening intently for her daughter to answer her.

"Mom was driving home and-" She broke down into a mess of loud sobs, and Clarke dropped the pencil, pushing out of her chair and almost knocking it over in her haste.

"Honey, which hospital?" She asked, trying to hold back the feeling of terror and immense dread creeping up into her chest.

"Clarke?" Lincoln's voice suddenly was heard on the other side, and Clarke barraged him with questions immediately.

"What happened? Where are you?" She fired off each word quickly as she grabbed her purse and pushed through the glass doors of the office.

"Washington Medical." Lincoln answered just as quickly. "Lexa and Quinn got t-boned by a drunk driver. Lexa's in the OR right now, it's not looking good. Clarke, you need to get here as soon as you can." He added.

"I'm already out the door." Clarke snapped impatiently. "Send someone down to fetch me when I get there."

When she had finally found parking for her car, Clarke had leapt out of the seat and pelted through the automatic double doors. Lincoln was waiting right there for her, and he led her up to the waiting area. Octavia was sitting next to Quinn, whose tears were flowing freely. At the sight of her mother, Quinn jumped out of her seat and rushed into her arms.

"We were arguing, and the car suddenly came out of nowhere. There was blood everywhere and Mom kept telling me not to panic, there was blood all over her face and her chest and I-"

"Honey, stop." Clarke held her daughter's cheeks between her palms, looking into those frantic, green eyes. "It's going to be okay, everything's going to be all right." She clenched her arms around Quinn's waist tightly, rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her child.

"She can't die, Mom, she can't."

"She won't." Clarke promised her daughter emptily, and Octavia met her gaze over her daughter's bowed head, the other woman looking just as despondent as her husband, who stood quietly with his jaw clenched.

 

When Lexa woke up, eyes blinking groggily under fluorescent lights, Clarke had felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and the ice-cold grip that had held her heart hostage for two days had melted. She had peppered her wife's forehead with kisses, her hand gentle as she brushed away the mess of stray hair on her brow with a tender, heart-weary expression on her face.

She had smiled up at Clarke weakly, her chest wrapped in layers and layers of bandages. Her left shoulder had been badly injured in the crash; she would need replacement surgery once she had regained most of her strength.

"Don't ever scare me again." Clarke had whispered onto Lexa's skin, and the other woman had simply grinned weakly at her wife.

"I wasn't trying to." She quipped, the hint of a laugh gleaming in her eyes.

"You almost died." Clarke snapped. "You almost left me." Her blue eyes tinged with anguish and fear, and Lexa wanted to kiss away her pain.

When Clarke looked despondently at her, eyes worn and wet, Lexa lifted her right hand, gently cupping the back of her wife's neck to bring their foreheads together. "I could never leave you, not without saying goodbye first."

Quinn sat next to Lexa for days after, holding her mother's hand like she was a toddler again, afraid of being swept away from the safety and the protection that the brunette had embodied.

 

She had gotten better, and she was working towards some recovery, when one day it made a turn for the worst. Her condition had deteriorated rapidly, and Clarke had watched as her wife – once brimming with a tireless energy and a power that lay under her skin, ready to be unleashed – went cold.

Quinn had rushed out of the room when it happened, inconsolable as she broke down in her Aunt Anya's arms.

Clarke stayed long after that last breath had exited Lexa's body, and she kissed her face, looking upon the woman who would never smile or kiss back. Her fingers stroked her jawline, her cheekbones for the final time, committing her face to memory for as long as she lived. "Goodbye, my love." She whispered quietly, and she buried her face into Lexa's shoulder one last time.

 

\----

 

July 24, 2015

Clarke held the letter in her hand, the envelope open but the contents inside untouched. Quinn had gone back upstairs, giving Clarke some privacy as she read the last letter. It was the last one, and once she read it, there would be nothing connecting her to her wife anymore. With trembling fingers, she pulled the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it to see its contents.

Clarke,

Today is the day that marks the beginning of our life together. For twenty-four years, I have fallen deeper and deeper in love with you with each passing second. You are my everything; the love of my life, the keeper of my heart, and the mother of our beautiful, intelligent daughter.

We've been on so many adventures together. But our greatest adventure we have ever undertaken, was the raising of our Quinn. She is the greatest thing we've ever made. She is the best of us, and watching her sprout from the tiny little bundle that I used to hold in my arms into this soccer player extraordinaire and brilliant student has made my heart well with pride. We made this wonderful, beautiful creature.

And now as we've reached this moment, I would like to confess something to you. All the letters you've received, they really are just long, drawn out ways for me to make this anniversary gift special. I wanted it to be twenty-four letters so that it could represent one year since the day we bound ourselves eternal to one another.

What I have been trying to say for the past twenty-four days, is that I love you. I love you with all my heart and my soul, and you make me a woman fulfilled, the happiest individual in the world, because you loved me for so many years in return. For all your love, for all your patience and your kindness, I am eternally grateful.

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. My life didn't start until you had hit me on the head with your sketchbook. Life as I knew it ended when I saw you, all bedraggled and flustered, and I knew I would love you for as long as I live.

Yours, always and forever.

Clarke let the tears flow, the streams of salty liquid dripping onto the words, smudging them as she wept openly for the first time since Lexa's death. She had been tight-lipped at the funeral, and in the months leading up to this day, she had been quiet, desolate and silent. But today, today her breaths came out in shuddering gasps.

Quinn was rushing down the stairs, and she hastened to her mother's side. At the sight of her mother, shattered and broken, Quinn felt her own tears soon leaving trails down her cheeks and to her chin.

They held each other until finally the tears stopped, and they sat there in silence. "How do you do this?" Quinn asked, and when Clarke gave her a confused gaze, she said: "How do you read all these letters without completely breaking down?"

Clarke smiled, her eyes red as she gazed the letter that she had placed on the surface of the coffee table. "I saw it as the last thing that connected me to her." She grinned ruefully. "At least, that's what I thought before."

"And now?" Quinn asked, and Clarke closed her eyes, breathing heavily through her nostrils.

"Now, I see that I've been wrong all this time." She said quietly. She gestured for Quinn to read the letter, and she obeyed easily enough.

The way she was slightly hunched as she read it, her elbows on her knees and her wild brown hair in a haphazard bun, even now Clarke shook her head in her own stupidity. She had been blind all along. "Your mother loved you with all your heart." Clarke said softly. "And you are the best of us."

"Mom." Quinn sighed, unable to hear these words, not when they brought her so much pain. "I was so mad at her sometimes, so frustrated with her when she treated me like a child." She sniffed, rubbing her eyes. "Now I'll never know if she'll forgive me."

"She didn't want you to make the mistakes she did." Clarke explained, a hand rubbing between her daughter's shoulder blades. "She'll be proud to know you understand now." Clarke pulled Quinn into her arms. "Honey, you've already been forgiven."

 

\----

 

July 21, 2016

She sat on the park bench alone. The birds chirped from the branches, and the wind blew over the lake gently. It was almost a year now since Lexa's death, but she still felt her around her. She felt her presence with her, watching over her, and she saw her in their daughter with every gesture and chuckle. And it was upon this realization that Clarke knew what Lexa's intent had been all along. Those letters had been a reminder; out of twenty-four years of marriage, and twenty-six years together, the absolute best thing that had come out of it was Quinn, and that thought soothed Clarke, warming her heart and quieting her soul with content.

She looked out across the lake. All was peaceful and bright, and if Clarke just closed her eyes, she could feel Lexa's forehead on her shoulder and her gentle laugh echo across the water.


End file.
